The Traitor's Wedding
by XxXMorganXxXLEAHXxX
Summary: It's only been about a week since Blackwater Bay. Sansa had been relieved to be cast aside by Joffrey, but she fears for the man she's grown fond of; Sandor Clegane. He'd never really escaped King's Landing, as he'd passed out in the stables. Everyone expected his fate to be similar to Ned's. But the boy King has a plan no one would have expected. SanSan Rated M for certain scenes
1. Chapter 1

**Please note some parts of the story may seem more in tune with the books, but I've based much on the TV show.**

 **Chapter One**

She had no idea when she started thinking of him more than just a scary, scarred man. The first day she'd seen him, on the King's Road, she hadn't been terribly frightened of him, a little curious in fact. But the more she heard, and the words Littlefinger had fed her, stoked a fire of fear inside of her for months, more so when she was the last wolf in King's Landing. She was surrounded by liars and thieves and cruel men. She was living in a story of hell and fire and destruction. She was utterly exhausted and terrified. She didn't know how much more she could have taken.

When she was brought forth in front of the King, to be taken in front of all the decapitated men of her House, she had never felt more alone. She knew how much Joffery wanted her to feel terrible and confused. But all she felt was angry. She remembered a phrase she'd heard her father speak, _"The North never forgets."_ It was like someone else had taken her over.

When Joffrey threatened, "After I raise my armies and kill your traitor brother, I'm going to give you his head." She'd dropped her stupid courtesies and her words and said the first thing that came to her mind, "Or maybe he'll give me yours."

Despite the fact she got slapped, the pain that bloomed in her face or the shame of being struck, she was never more proud of herself. She knew she was alone now, knew that Arya was most likely gone, so when she saw the edge to push him off and kill the stupid little brat, she was more than happy to die with him.

But Sandor had stopped her, dabbed at the blood that welled on her lip with such tenderness that she had no idea what she could say. She lost her fire, her wittiness, and, by the time he broke their shared gaze, she was a submissive pup again. She thanked him quietly, remembering her stupid courtesies and let Joffrey do what he would with her.

She had never felt more alone.

The Hound had just seemed like another Lannister, another piece of Joffrey's chessboard. Despite his moment of kindness, Sansa began to loath him. She even tried blaming him for some of her suffering. She wanted to hate him. She did up until Robb had captured Jaime Lannister and she was brought to the King. He declared it was her fault and that Robb needed to be taught a lesson. There was only one way that could happen; Sansa needed to take the punishment. Maybe if she cried loud enough he could hear her.

That moment, so painful and frightening was burned into her memory. The strike of the sword against her flesh, the pain radiating through her body, and the momentary fear that she might actually be cut caused her to cringe at the thought. What was worse was the fact that not one person wanted to step forward to help her. Most of the King's guard watched her, sneered at her, and enjoyed the misery that was caused. But there was one person that didn't watch, didn't take joy in her pain, or laugh at what was said; the Hound. Thoughts that he could see what was happening, hear her begging, pleading, made her ashamed. She hated how she acted, that she was so pathetic. It filled her with shame and embarrassment and made it all the much easier for the tears to fall.

Tyrion had stepped forward and ordered the knights to stop. She'd never been so relieved. Despite her nakedness, the fact she was exposed to all those men, knights, and women at court, she was briefly relieved. Even better, Sandor, for now he wasn't the Hound, stepped forward and covered her shame with his white cloak, just like a proper knight should. He hadn't needed prodding, nor did Tyrion have to order him to. He simply did it like it was nothing, just a casual gesture like anyone here would have done it. He wouldn't meet her eye, didn't say one word to her. He just draped his cloak over her shoulders and made sure she wouldn't be shamed anymore.

That night, as she soaked down in the water to try to get rid of some of her bruising and the pain from her muscles, Sansa finally realized who Sandor really was. He was a man growing up in a cruel world. He was scarred at a young age and was brought up with sneers and jokes made on his part. He'd built a wall, the Hound persona, and made sure everyone knew they'd never be able to mess with him again. But in brief moments, he let her see exactly who and what he truly was. He was surly not a knight. Not in his personality or some form of morals. No, he was brutal and honest and didn't let anyone walk over him. He wasn't pretty like Ser Loras or terrible like Ser Jonas. No, he was just Sandor.

The next day, after she'd personal scrubbed down his white cloak until it was clean and even stitched up some rips, she was glad to find him in the hall alone. She fiddled with the cloak in her hands and cleared her throat. He'd barely glanced at her and rasped, "What does the Little Bird need now?"

"Pardon me, ser-"

He'd interrupted before she could continue, sneering and glaring, "I'm no ser. I'm nothing like those prissy cunts in white cloaks, girl."

She'd briefly bristled and tried again, "I just wanted to return your cloak. I've cleaned it and I stitched up a few areas-"

"Don't expect a thanks from me. You might as well should have burned it," he spat, ripping the cloak from her fingers.

She bristled, flushing under his gaze and snapped, "I'm just trying to return the favor of your kindness yesterday. There's no reason to be so… so…"

He laughed, cutting off her angry words. "It's no kindness to cover up a naked girl. I'm no knight, no kind man. I'm a dog who listens to orders. Don't think otherwise." Then Sandor left, before she could get another word out. She should have been more mad, have dismissed his small acts of kindness and moved on with her personal hell.

But for some reason, she could never shake off what he'd done. She'd listen to his cruel words, watch him brutally take down other men, and laugh cruelly at things others said. Then, if something was mentioned of her, even a glance at her way, he'd take the men down like he'd wanted to. She'd watch him train men in the field, bare chested and showing off all of his scars. He'd challenge anyone to try to take him down, laugh at those who'd be bested because of how stupid they were. She should have thought of him as cruel. She was a proper lady, a good one too. Everything he did should have been repulsive, made her hate him all the more.

Instead, she started looking for him. Longed to see him fight and stand in the throne room behind Joffrey as the spoiled King declared the cruelest of punishments. He never met her gaze, not truly, as she watched him. But she knew that he knew she looked for him. Slowly, those scars had started to fade from her view, until all she could see was a man that longed to prove he was good too. Fought with his own demons, in his own fiery hell of a past.

Shortly after she looked at him more and more, Sandor confronted her of it. Cornered her in a cove, shoved her against a wall, and made her look more. He snarled, trying to bring the Hound out to scare her. Snapped, "Why the hell do you keep looking at me girl? Too curious about these damn burns? Want to try your stupid courtesies on me?" He scared her when he was like this, mean and harsh in his actions and words. "Look at me girl," he said lowly. "You look plenty enough any other time."

She did as he bid, looking at his grey eyes, so angry and furious that they were two separate emotions on their own. "You frighten me when you're like this," she said quietly, refusing to look at his scars as if they were terrible things.

"I'm supposed to be frightening," he said, laughing darkly and glaring. But he let her go and stepped back just a bit.

"It's not you. It's only what you do when you want me to be afraid."

"Spare me your stupid words girl and quit looking. Joffrey'll figure it out soon enough and take both ours heads. I'd prefer not to die for no reason," he spat, turning away suddenly and walking off. Leaving her alone in this dark alcove. Her skin thrummed underneath her dress where he'd touched her. She just stood there, her heartbeat in her ears, arms wrapped around herself, and staring down where Sandor would have walked off. Eventually, she started back to her rooms before one of the other King's Guard would find her. Her maids were hysterical, clucking and tutting about being out alone and how wrong it was. She ignored what they said, eventually sent them all away and soaked herself in her tub. She knew they were Cersei's spies, to whisper words of what she said directly to the Queen. Right now, she couldn't be sure she could keep her tongue quiet. She had to contemplate what had happened, what Sandor had said to her, and why she couldn't quit thinking about his touch.

Time passed. Sansa tried to keep to the shadows while Tyrion tried bring sense into his nephew. Joffrey sneered at her, mocked her, and tried the best he could to be cruel. Sansa just closed her eyes, said her stupid words, and thought of Sandor, of how he looked at her and touched her. She knew it was wrong to think of him, no matter the context. She wasn't even sure why she thought of it so much. She tried pressing away the thoughts, but they invaded at the strangest moments, brought on queer sensations she wasn't very familiar with.

She didn't dare look at him too much anymore, aware of how dangerous it really could be if she was caught. It didn't matter who it was, if it was her handmaidens or any of the spies across the Keep or even Joffrey himself. It didn't matter, for Joffrey would hear one way or the other. So after a quick glance, she kept her gaze forward and lived in just the faint memories that she could cherish. There was no way she'd allow anyone to rip these away from her.

She lived her fantasies and seemed to float through the palace in a haze. She tried not to focus on the worst that was happening and chirped her words back to the King. She bit her tongue gamely and thanked the Gods Tyrion seemed to reign in the worst of his cruelty. Life seemed to live in this middle of plainness.

Then came the riot and her near rape. She had felt utterly and completely alone. She didn't think life could be much worse when Joffrey was beating her. But being abandoned by everyone in the Palace reminded her just how alone she was. Not even Sandor could be there for her. He had a job to do. Protect the King. The foul-mouthed King. The cruel King.

She screamed as the men grappled at her, started unlacing their breeches. Hoped someone, anyone would hear her. This wasn't supposed to be how she was taken. Even Joffrey would be more welcomed than this. Sandor would be better…

Then it stopped. She looked, to see Sandor, the Hound, gutting one man. She didn't look away as their bowels spilled from their bellies, as they bled to death. She relished in the bloodshed just for a moment. She cherished the next when the Hound looked at her, when his eyes told her that he was there, that Sandor was. He spoke to her for the first time, "It's all right, Little Bird, you're all right." She took his offered hand, let him hoist her over his shoulder and let the warmth of him engulf her. He was here. He would be here.

He was no Knight, but he was better than anyone else here. She remembered this after each cruel word or his mocking japes about her being a Little Bird. She kept what he'd said close to her heart, listened to his words over and over in her head, and reminded herself the world was cruel. No one would be there for her, not truly. Even the Hound.

But she should have thought more deeply because now she might be the cause of his death. She should have fled with him when he came for her the night of the battle of Blackwater bay. But, when he came to her, all of his words, cruel and bitter, reminded her that he'd never care for her in the way she'd developed. She made herself hate him in just that instance. She told him to flee without her, that Stannis would keep her safe. She sent him off in hopes he'd be safe and just maybe they'd see each other again one day.

She never imagined they'd find him passed out in the stables near Stranger.

So far the King had kept him alive. She had no clue what exactly he had in plan for him. Sansa prayed every day for his safety, called upon all the Gods, the old and the new, to keep him alive and well.

What was worse was Joffrey was acting strange. She wasn't sure if it was because of his new betrothed Margery or what, but he'd been sending people to her. First it had been a seamstress Sansa had never seen and who'd been utterly silent as to why she was being called upon. Then, Joffrey spoke to her at lengths, kindly and without his cruel jokes or orders. She never saw a new dress from the seamstress. Now, nearly a week after Tywin had taken over and she'd been dismissed as a simple warden, Joffrey called upon her to the court. It was time to hear about Sandor's fate.

She hoped he'd be all right.

 **~A/N~**

 **Yes, yes I told myself I wouldn't start another story. But this one just wouldn't leave my mind. If I tried writing anything else, it just wouldn't flow. This would. And yes, it's not the most uncommon plot but it's different from Blackwater Bay at least. I'm trying to explore Sansa's character more clearly on everything that had happened.**

 **Hopefully this will update fast and be done somewhat quickly. Already finished chapter three, well over 7000 words, and I'm only partially done. I'm anticipating roughly ten chapters, but it could be just a bit longer. Everything is already pretty well thought out.**

 **The characters should mostly be in character. Sansa has weird things she still has to sort through and, of course, Sandor already cares for her!**

 **R &R and Enjoy!**

 **XmX**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Come, Lady Sansa, King Joffrey is bidding for you." They had come for her midday. She had no clue why Joffrey would call for her on the day she was usually alone. What was even more confusing was the fact her handmaidens had brought her a new dress that the seamstress had been busy designing earlier that week. She'd thought she'd finally solved the mystery before and had figured that the dress would be for Margery's wedding.

Was this supposed to be some sort of gown simply for Sandor's execution? She knew that Joffrey would claim him as a deserter, a traitor and have him killed. She figured he was supposed to have been judged and most likely executed. It should have been don ein the morning though so Joffrey could have a happy start to his day. She hadn't thought he'd have waited, would call upon her to be there as a witness. She could hear her handmaidens, aside from Shae, gossiping quietly about Sandor. It sounded as if he hadn't even been brought forth yet. Was she going to have to listen to the entire testimony?

Was Joffrey going to execute him in front of her too?

There was no way he could have found out Sansa had grown fond of the Hound, of the man who was so brutally honest with her in this cruel world. She prayed under her breath, so quietly that no one in the room could even tell she was murmuring. Only Shae, the only maid not under Cersei's thumb, gave Sansa a look to say she couldn't fool her. But she simply smiled fondly at the foreign girl and attempted to distract herself. Her hands had started shaking badly again, so she clasped them in front of herself and quietly recounted some history in her head to distract herself. Eventually, her thoughts drifted to Margery Tyrell.

Ever since she had appeared in King's Landing, it was very rare that Sansa was called upon. She only appeared in court when Joffrey expected her, which was usually when he decreed his cruelest punishments. Occasionally, Margery called upon her to "keep her company in such a lonely place". She found it wasn't the worst thing ever to be with the new betrothed, but she sometimes wondered just what the girl wanted out of her. There was only one reason to be kind at King's Landing and it certainly wasn't for friendship.

It didn't matter what anyone wanted from her right now. She couldn't stop shaking, she was so nervous for Sandor. Did Joffrey have something planned for him that was as terrible as she was imagining? Would he execute him like her father, beheaded in front of a crowd? Would he do worse and burn Sandor to death like the Mad King?

Just the thought made her sick to her stomach. She swayed slightly and quickly put out a hand to stop herself from falling. "Milady, are you feeling well?" Shae asked, pausing and looking at her with concern.

"I'm fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "Let's go. I don't want to be late for King Joffrey."

"Oh yes, Milady, he's always quite eager to share whatever news he has," one of the other handmaidens murmured, with one final touch to her hair. Sansa had wanted to keep it simple today and, for once, she wanted to wear her hair more of her Northern style. She kept it lower on her neck than the Southern styles, her hair braided and weaved carefully to look beautiful. They even weaved some flowers into her braids, although she was a little curious as to why they were making her look so pretty. When she asked, the same maid said brightly, "He said he wanted you to be absolutely stunning this morning. Perhaps he's changed his mind and is reconsidering you as his betrothed?"

She remembered her courtesies and chirped back, "Oh, I doubt that he could ever want to marry a traitor such as me. Especially with someone as beautiful as Lady Margery. I'm sure he's got something else in mind." Which was undeniably true. That scared her the most out of all of this. There had to be a reason he was keen on getting her so prettied up.

"Well, our final touches are done Milady. Shall we get going?" a sweet girl said. Truly, Sansa wished she could trust this one, with her childlike smiles and almost innocence, deep chestnut hair and shorter statue, but she refused to let herself be trapped with any looks or smiles. It had happened once. She wasn't a child now.

But she forced her own sweet smile and said, "Of course. I wouldn't want the King to have to send for us." Which was completely and utterly true. He'd probably send Meryn, one of the worst and the most she despised. Why couldn't he have died in Blackwater?

 _It's because he's the cruelest,_ that little voice in her head whispered. It was true; the worst always survived.

She let the girls lead her from her chambers. She almost expected to see Sandor patrolling as she walked, he'd been part of the Keep far more than the rest of the guards, and it gave her a twinge of sadness when she thought about the fact this was probably going to be the last time she'd see him. She kept her hands clasped together in front of her and walked gracefully all the way to the throne room. She knew her place where Joffrey liked her best, just off to the side where he could see her, but that she couldn't pull enough attention to herself. Margery had taken her old place, thank goodness. Today, she assumed that she'd be in the same place as always, but Joffrey stopped her mid-step by saying, "Ah, Lady Sansa! I'm so glad you could be with us today. And my, don't you looking stunning."

She was forced to turn towards him with her fake smile and, at his beckon, hesitantly took a step towards the front. She curtsied and replied, "I'm honored to be called to your presence today, Your Grace." She hadn't planned to say more and she was glad that she hadn't because her breath caught in her throat when she saw Sandor there. He hadn't looked at her, refused to take his eyes off the side of the room he was looking at. But she'd recognize his statue anywhere, with his large form and his partially scarred side. Despite the fact he'd been in the Black Cells, he really looked pretty good. He was definitely malnourished, looked like this was the first time he'd seen light since Blackwater Bay, and he was nursing several bruises and cuts. The King's Guard had probably taken the chance they'd had to beat him while he was down. Still, despite all of this, he looked like he'd been cleaned up and even dressed properly. He clearly wore no armor and didn't have his sword, but he was dressed in very clean breeches and tunic. What was with that?

"I've got quite the pleasant surprise for you today. For everyone really," he said, a gleeful smile across his wormy lips. It almost made her cringe.

"You're so generous, Your Grace," she said, rising and stepping further off to the side in hopes she could disappear.

"Oh, no we can't have that. I want you up and center today. You just look so _beautiful_ today," he sneered, looking extremely pleased with himself.

She did as he bid, hesitant and shaking just a bit. It didn't go unnoticed her handmaidens had disappeared from her side, even Shae. A quick glance told her Shae was close by, but the others had disappeared mysteriously from the room altogether. That was unusual. What was even more was the fact there was an extreme number of people present this morning, most of which looked mighty uncomfortable.

She also noticed that neither the Queen nor the Hand of the King were present at all. Lord Peyter Baelish was amiss as well to her confusion. Most of the King's people were almost always present, especially during trials like this.

Something felt extremely wrong.

Thankfully, Joffrey took his eyes off of her for a moment, another smirk twisting on his lips. He looked back at the Hound. "Now that we have both of the traitors in our midst, I believe it's time to decide our punishment. Ser Lancel, if you'd please."

The blonde man stepped forward as he was called and started this tale, "As we were all clearly aware, during the night of our battle there was so much loss. People fought and died and Lord Tywin graciously came to help us win our battle. It should have been a good night…" Sansa trailed off from his story, clearly remembered what happened with Sandor had come for her. He'd stunk of wine and blood and smoke. He tried to scare her as much as possible, threatening her with his knife. Eventually, he let her go and left. He'd dropped his white cloak on the floor. She'd tucked it down in the bottom of her closet so deeply no one should have found it. She only took it out on the worst nights, when the nightmares came and the tears for the fact she should have left. It still smelt the same as that night… "But the Hound didn't stay for the fight. He thought it better to flee from the fight with his tail between his legs, telling our King Joffrey… what was the words? _Fuck the King_?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, briefly feeling so proud of the fact Sandor could have said that. But Sansa schooled her features carefully and kept on the same look she always had. She listened as Joffrey _so graciously_ asked him if he remembered any of this. When she glanced at Sandor, she noticed the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he was fighting his own smirk, and, with a shrug, rasped, "Ain't remember much of that night." He'd certainly smelt like he'd had enough wine to wipe out his memory for the night, but she doubted that was really the case. He looked like he remembered it enough.

She watched Joffrey's reaction carefully, fighting the urge to wring her hands or smooth out her dress as if it had any wrinkles. She was terribly worried about what would happen, as the last "traitor" had lost their head so brutally. She had to fight the fact that any of this mattered, that her heart wasn't beating crazily and lodged in her throat. She was finding it hard to breath, she was so nervous. _'Just don't think about it,'_ she told herself.

Joffrey stood up, taking a step towards his dog. "You remember what I did last time I had a traitor in my midst, don't you dog?" When Sandor Clegane spat down at the ground and growled, "If you're gonna kill me just get on with it," the boy King threw back his head and laughed.

"See, this is why I liked you so much. A fearless, rabid Dog who didn't care whether or not he died." He glanced over at Sansa, a small smirk on his face that made her all the more nervous. "Mother had told me to give you a quick death, that there was no reason to make a scene over a dog. I told her I'd decide something to placate her, but I'd found there was a better way to make all of the Traitors in King's Landing pay all the more. Death is far too quick for any of you, especially the _beautiful_ Lady Sansa."

She should have known this could go bad quickly. Joffrey wanting her to get pretty, all these people around here. All of them looking like they weren't happy with what was happening in the least… This was screaming of all sorts of wrongness. She took a step back, glancing around as inconspicuously as possible and looking for some sort of escape.

Joffrey started laughing, seeming amused by the look on Sansa's face, and took a step away from his throne. "We're all going to make a trip over to the Great Sept of Baelor. I think I shamed the Gods once for killing a man there, so we should try to make amends for that. What you all say?"

Hesitant sounds of agreement came from the crowd, but Sansa was stunned. Why would they be going over to the Sept? There was only two reasons to go there, and there was no way Joffrey would kill them in Sept. And there was no way Joffrey would marry her and Sandor… He couldn't. Sandor was a knight…

"What's all the surprise about? There's no way I'd keep that traitor as part of my King's Guard." Joffrey spat at the Hound, who seemed just as stunned as Sansa in that moment. He had to have the same thoughts. "I just thought it would be good for my Lady Sansa to be so beautifully dressed for her wedding day."

No, no no! This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to be how everything was supposed to be happening. Sandor didn't want her, could hardly look at her as it was. Her wedding day should have her father, her family, Lady… Tears formed in her eyes unexpectedly. What was her family going to say? Oh, what did it matter anyhow? Robb nor her mother had even tried to bring her home. She hadn't heard one word. She was the one who killed Father after all. They probably blamed her She didn't…

By the look on Joffrey's face, this was exactly the kind of reaction he'd wanted. She stood up straighter, brushed aside any of the thoughts she was thinking of and went back into her haze. She took a deep breath. She could do this. It was just another test. This way, she could at least keep Sandor alive. He was much better than any of the other Knights or a Lannister. She could only imagine if it was Tyrion instead… That sent a whole new feeling of disgust through her.

So she kept her head high and let the group of people bid her out to the Sept. Shae managed her way through the crowd, shoved between Knights and folks alike until she was by Sansa's side. "We can try to get you out of this milady," she hissed into Sansa's ear. Sansa thought about it. She'd had one chance to escape, run off with Sandor before Stannis had lost. She hadn't thought they'd have a chance like this. She only thought it would exist in her fantasies. Granted, Sandor hadn't exactly wanted her in the way she'd only just started to comprehend, but this was the chance she'd been wanting. So she shook her head, smiled at Shae and walked ahead to her destiny.

 **~A/N~**

 **So, I planned to have this up much sooner. But I was nervous about the chapter, making sure all my characters were in line and if I really wanted to end here. So far, my original first chapter is split into four chapters now, so this will definitely be a lot longer than I anticipated, but I know roughly where I'm going to end it. It just depends on how much I plan to split up the chapters.**

 **I'm glad for the positive response for the story and thank you so much for the reviews and follows!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Every girl used to have imagined wedding days. Sansa was no different. She'd thought of gallant Knights with flowers on their cloaks. Some of good men, noblemen who were gentle and kind. She remembered a time with Arya where she'd wanted a man that would let her do as she pleased ("I won't ever let a man tell me what I can and can't do!" she'd yelled at Sansa when they'd bickered about it). Mostly, she'd thought of what she'd say at her wedding, and how sweet and gentle they'd be later that night. It had been perfect through the entire ceremony, feasts, and even the occasional thought of the wedding night.

Never had she thought she'd be forced into the hands of the Sandor Clegane, the Hound.

She didn't think this was such a terrible idea, but it wasn't anywhere near what she'd envisioned. Still, she'd come to know him as a much better man than others in King's Landing. He had kept her safe, took care of her when others had done her harm, and even saved her from herself. She knew better than to think fantasies would come true. But she'd never thought her marriage would be this terrible. She wasn't supposed to be surrounded by snakes and liars and thieves and unjustly men. She was supposed to have her father to walk her to her betrothed. Her mother was supposed to be there. Arya would be her maid of honor (even though they never got along). Bran and Robb would be there to help with the Northern ceremony. Rickon probably would have just made everyone laugh. Even her husband-to-be should have had family there. Everyone would have been beaming and drinking and laughing and everyone would go to be so very happily.

Reality was much crueler. Most of the Court that was present now didn't look happy in the least. Half of the court looked on in disgust, a quarter of crowd was even giving her looks of pity, and the rest just didn't seem to care. Everything was so very wrong. No one was here for her especially, except maybe Shae. But she felt like such a lone wolf. She wanted to hunch her shoulders, hide in herself, but a glance at Sandor told her he was just as uncomfortable with these arrangements.

She'd seen the struggle he'd put up at first, but he wasn't to his full strength, being unfed and unable to really move much in the Black Cells. It didn't take long for the others to subdue him and drag him to the Sept. They'd had Sansa wait in the back surrounded by onlookers and her maids, that had come to get her primed up just a bit more while they got Sandor situated. Three of her handmaidens had exclaimed how pretty she was and how Joffrey had made sure that "they had the best chamber in the Keep after the marriage". Shae was unusually quiet, studying Sansa with uneasy eyes. Clearly, everyone beside her and Shae had known. The only others that might not know would be Cersei and Tywin Lannister had no clue either.

She wondered how they would take the announcement of the marriage.

As she waited, Sansa was reminded yet again this wasn't a normal marriage at all. Aside from the breakfast before the ceremony clearly hadn't happened, she doubted that Joffrey would want them to delay at all or really celebrate. The actual ceremony took long enough without "wasting" food on traitors. She guessed that everything would be introduced at dinner with those of the Royal Family. She hoped Sandor would be okay with all of this. At least temporarily. She just wanted a normal enough dinner without too much of a hassle.

Maybe she would even be able to go home eventually. She wouldn't be much of a bargaining chip, being married and bedded. Aside from the fact, it was possible Sandor would want to annul the marriage once they'd escaped King's Landing, so she'd be able to marry herself off to someone else… She was a little surprised by the fact she felt so angry at that thought. But she was tired of being someone else's pawn. And Sandor was good. She knew what he was like. He'd never hurt her.

By the time everything was situated, Sansa was shaking with nerves. She wasn't even sure she could begin to remember what she had to say, what she'd have to promise and declare to the Seven. More than that, she hated that she couldn't have a Northern Wedding like she'd usually envisioned. Then again, Sandor Clegane had even less experience with weddings. He probably didn't have a clue what to say.

What kind of farce was this going to turn into?

Just the thought of seeing him standing up there, or him holding her hands or reciting holy vows brought a giggle out of her chest she didn't know could be there in that instant. It left a smile on her face that something so simple could see so outrageous for such a man. The thought gave her butterflies in her belly and caused another small giggle, which was now drawing concern to her handmaidens.

Before she could reassure them everything was fine, she was being bid forward. To her disappointment and disgust, Joffrey offered his arm to her to walk her to Sandor and, as she studied him the closer she got, it was obvious he definitely looked worse than before. She swore she caught sight of some blood. But she pushed that thought aside for the moment and worried on the something much more present. Her stomach felt like it dropped out of her as she took the steps up the Sept to her awaiting husband-to-be. Would she remember to say anything? Would she be able to help him with his vows? Would he say anything willingly? Surely, he'd fight more to get away. He wanted nothing to do with her, not in this way. Not one bit. She was nothing to him other than a nuisance.

When she finally stood up by Sandor, he could barely look at her. His face was a lot worse for wear than usual and that's not because of his burns. He was bruised and even bleeding from a split lip. She hesitated for just a moment, then used her thumb to brush away some of the blood. He jerked from her as if she's slapped him and glared down at her. "The bloody hell you doing, Little Bird?" he snarled quietly, not loud enough for the rest of the place to hear.

She cringed slightly at his tone and said quietly, "You're hurt-"

"You want to make this worse? It bloody fucking can. Want Joffrey to make you get fucked in front of everyone? He can do that. And he probably will too, if you aren't fucking terrified out of your damn mind. Stupid cunt king."

She hadn't thought about that. Suddenly, she felt sick. She couldn't control the shaking in her hands or the tears that started gathering in her eyes. She whispered quietly, "I'm sorry. I hadn't… I'm just trying-"

"Don't think this makes anything fucking better. Nothing's going to change except he'll use both us for his fucking amusement." By now, the priest called for everyone's attention.

Before she turned her attention to him, she murmured quietly to Sandor, "I should have gone with you."

She didn't look at him as the ceremony began. She tried telling herself what she was supposed to say over and over in her mind, remembering it was better to not say her own vows, despite the fact she'd made some years and years ago. It was amazing how long ago her childhood had seemed… Still, she could clearly remember what vows she'd made for the man she was supposed to marry. She'd always figured he'd be a kind, gentle man who would love and cherish her and always protect her. She figured it wouldn't matter if she used the words she made then, as he'd be perfect and he would fit into the story so well.

It was ironic just how much she wanted laugh bitterly. Life was nothing like she could have planned for. She hadn't ever thought life would have been like the hell she'd been living in. Now, she was being forced to marry a man crude, cruel, and so bitter inside. She knew why he did such things and knew he had a gentler side to him, but she hated that she couldn't even show just a bit of affection towards the man she'd learned to care for. She'd imagined, in her weirdest fantasies, when they would be getting married things would have been so different. They wouldn't have been able to take their eyes off each other. They'd share glances, she'd faintly hold his hand in hers, and she'd be able to tell him the vows she'd always thought when she was a stupid girl.

But that was all fantasy. This was reality. Everything that was happening, what they'd be declaring to the Seven in just mere moments was so bitterly clear it made her hate all the Gods for what they were putting her through in just this instant. Still, as they were told to face each other and take hands, when she looked up at him, she could feel the warmth spread into her chest as she looked in his face, at the two sides of Sandor and the Hound. She hated herself more for it, hated that she couldn't control any of her feelings.

This wasn't any typical wedding either. They didn't have cloaks to exchange, nor did she have her father escort her to the alter. They were under pretenses that if they didn't marry, they could both be killed. At least this way, she could be a bit safer. She just had to play her part right.

As they looked at each other and Sansa waited for their turn to speak, she couldn't help, but be terrified of what Joffrey might do if she didn't play her cards right. She listened to what Sandor had said and used her same courtesies to make herself seem utterly terrified. She let her hands shake a bit as she placed her smaller ones in his large hands. He clasped them with a bit hesitance. She dared one look up at him, at his grey eyes and scarred face and gave him a look with her eyes she was sure he could understand; she was okay with this. The Septon tied together their hands with a grey and yellow gold ribbon and said, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity." She took a deep breath and, letting her voice shake a bit, recited, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days." She was more than surprised when he recited the same vows in unison. It was as if he'd been preparing for this... The Septon quickly wrapped up the ceremony, not even giving them a chance to kiss or anything. Not that she was sure Sandor would have wanted to.

It wasn't until they were well done with the ceremony something dawned on her… He'd known his words perfectly, what they'd have to...

He'd known this was going to happen.

He'd been preparing all week. It was why he'd known where he'd stand and what he'd say. She knew he'd spit on these vows, like they wouldn't mean a thing. But he could have said utterly no. Gotten killed. Despite the fact he didn't believe in any of this, that he'd never would have wanted a family (with her much less), he still did this. For her. To protect her from whatever hell she could still get into. This was his final sacrifice to her.

And, as the crowd gave them a pitiful applaud and congratulations and false words of happiness, she leaned over and whispered one simple phrase to him, "Thank you."

He might not feel what she did for him, but it was clear that she could develop deeper feelings for him given the chance they might have. She could love him. Really, truly love him. She'd looked passed the scars, knew where they'd come from. She knew of his past, the pain he'd gone through. He was no pretty Knight nor was he kind. But he was better than anything else she could have asked for in this last year.

Suddenly, everything shifted. The crowd that had been standing there quickly parted. The Queen had finally returned and, with her, the Hand of the King. They burst through the crowd, Cersei nearly frantic and clearly enraged. Tywin looked no better, if not more angry than his daughter. Sansa had no clue where either of them had been, but her previous thoughts that perhaps they hadn't known about this was confirmed. Greatly. Tywin took one look at the two of them, clearly not dressed for the wedding, but wedded nonetheless, and fairly growled in frustration. Cersei was in a fit, hissing, "What the hell do you think you were doing? I told you to KILL him, not give him the bloody North! Is there something wrong with you?!" Tywin went over there to assist in the situation, just as Joffrey was screaming, "You CAN'T talk to me like this! I'm the King, I can do as I please!"

The crowds were quickly dispersing, clearly trying to get out of the wrath of the King before he let it leak out further into the crowd. Sansa had no clue where to go, but she didn't think it was best to just disappear from the place. Sandor was standing just as still as she was, although he'd shifted enough so he was just in front of her. She felt grateful that, despite everything that had happened, Sandor would still protect her, armor and sword or not.

Eventually, Cersei and Joffrey had seemed to fight through the problems of wedding together Clegane and Stark, for Cersei suddenly disappeared from the room in poorly concealed anger. Tywin was back to looking at Sandor and Sansa, clear dislike on his face. "There was no reason for this wedding to take place. We'll easily-"

"Pardon me," Sansa said, stepping forward and curtsying. "But if the King has declared this, it's his choice. I have no right to argue against him, as I'm merely the daughter of a Traitor. I have no more claim to the North than I do the Iron Throne."

She kept her head bowed, didn't dare look up at any of the men present in the room. After several tense moments, Tywin made a displeased noise and walked off from the room. She nearly sagged in relief, but kept the same posture for Joffrey just as well. She knew he'd like this much more. Finally, Joffrey snapped, "Be at the Great Hall for a feast tonight. You're stupid maids will take you to your new chambers." Then he stomped off, clearly displeased with everything that had happened. His fun had been ruined. It made Sansa so much happier he hadn't been able to finish up his games.

When she turned to Sandor, he was looking at her with a blank face. She fidgeted with her hands, and told him, "I figured this would be safer than letting Joffrey torture us more when they annulled the marriage. And then this way you don't have to die-"

He cursed. "Bloody hells girl, why do you care?"

"Because I care about you," she admitted, then turned, and, as she was walking off, asked "Are you coming?"

 **~A/N~**

 **So, my plan on the first chapter originally being split into four chapters has now turned into five. At the rate I'm going, if everything else keeps going the same exact way, my short 5 chapter story will end up with 25 chapters instead. I'm hoping to cut that down a bit and finish this up sooner than later and finish up the rest of my FF stories that have been going on for years. Still, this one won't leave me alone. It's like an itch I just can't get away.**

 **I don't think I'll be putting out another chapter quite as quickly, as I currently started a second job and I'm at roughly 75 hrs a week between the two. I'm mostly working and sleeping. Still, I have a few extra days off from one of my jobs next week so I'm hoping maybe Wednesday will be my next update. Worst case it'll be early Saturday morning. Best case, I'll have it up Sunday. I'm hoping for Sunday, but I won't make any promises either.**

 **Thank you for the encouraging reviews, favs and follows! It's greatly helped with the story process and inspired much more than I originally planned. Really, I just can't thank everyone enough.**

 **Let me know how this chapter went. R &R**

 **XmX**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 **~Yes, Shae's wording isn't changed much and I don't really plan to while I write the story. I find it difficult to really write out her accent and discovered its more distracting from my writing to try to adjust it just right. I apologize for any inconvenience~**

The room the newly married couple was brought to was quite a difference. Instead of the small childish room she'd had before, this one reminded her vaguely of her parents back in Winterfell. It was much more spacious with larger windows and more airflow, but it had the matureness one would expect of a married couple. There was a direct view of the sea from her larger window that also contained a little seat right below filled with satiny, soft pillows. She could easily see herself reading in that window when she had nothing else to do. To the left, there was a small dining area, with a table for the two of them to sit and enjoy their own meals. The bathroom was, unfortunately, more exposed than she would have liked. It would be difficult to keep herself covered… _Oh._

They would be having a wedding night. It wouldn't really matter if Sandor saw her nakedness during a bath or not. He'd been seeing more than enough of her tonight.

Her hands had started shaking a bit, so she clasped them together and looked away from the bathroom. The handmaidens were fluttering about, trying to clean things up as best as they could and move her things in at the same time. They must have brought everything over at some point during the ceremony. She sighed slightly, glancing at Sandor. He still seemed like he was really contemplating everything that was happening. She looked him over once and realized he was probably still starving.

She called over the smallest of her maids and asked, "Can you bring us something for our midday meal? I would greatly appreciate it."

"Oh, yes, of course. You both must be famished." She seemed more skittish than before and, when she glanced at the large form of the Hound, Sansa understood why.

"Thank you. I'm sure Sandor is quite famished and I find I'm a bit peckish, so if you wouldn't mind…"

Another one of her maids came over, fussing over the food as well. The girls all started off towards the kitchen, but Sansa called over Shae before the foreign girl could go from the room. "Yes, milady?" she asked, her accent clear.

"Did any of the handmaidens happen to find the cloak?" she asked quietly, glancing around the room.

"No."

"Would you mind bringing it? I still… It could be dangerous if it's found."

"I don't mind… Just… Are you safe?" Shae glared at the Hound at this point. He seemed to have been a little less stunned and glared just a fiercely at the foreign girl and snarled.

"I'm fine. He won't hurt me. Go and fetch the table cloth as well. I'm sure they'll blend nicely." She knew Shae would understand the double meaning.

Reluctantly, and still hesitant, Shae bowed her head and started from the room with one last warning look at Sandor.

Now that they were suddenly alone, Sansa had no clue what to say. She wasn't even sure she could look at him right now. What were they supposed to say; 'I'm glad that we're married'? Who had to say that to the husband ever? Hesitantly, she turned to the large, fearsome ma and decided it was best to wait and see what he had to say. He'd gone back to looking around the room, not acknowledging Sansa's current presence. Slightly annoyed, she opened her mouth to say something, anything really. But she was at a loss.

She didn't think everything that had happened had sunk in yet.

She certainly hadn't expected Sandor to suddenly start laughing, that bitter barking laughter he had. It made her mouth quirk into a smile and she hesitantly asked, "What is it?"

"We're fucking married, Little Bird," he said, his mouth twitching and his laughter starting up all over again. It made her giggle this time, because it was just too ironic. Between their shared laughter, he said, "The fucking irony of this shit world. You get stuck with an ugly old dog and I'm fucking married."

That stopped her for just a moment, where she frowned and said, a bit hesitantly, "You never thought you would be?" Sure, he'd been made a Knight, but that didn't mean…

"The bloody hell do you think? I'm an ugly, old dog. Most women can't bear to look at me," he snapped, fairly sneering. She opened her mouth to argue with her, hating that he'd say such rude things about himself. But that was when she really looked at him and gasped.

"Oh, you're still bleeding!" She hastily pulled out a handkerchief and came up to him.

"I don't need you to bloody fawn over me," he said, taking a step back from the girl.

She huffed and told him, "You'd better sit down before I make you."They stared down at each other for several moments, before Sandor gave off another barking laugh and sat down on the edge of their bed.

That thought stopped her for a moment. _Their bed._ One that they'd be sleeping in and… and… She swallowed, suddenly nervous to be near the mattress. She glanced a bit and noticed a small bowl that was most likely filled with water. She spun around and walked over to the small table. Thankfully, there was some water. She took it over to the bed with her, set it in his lap and hesitantly climbed up on the bed. She had to be on her knees to really reach his face well. She dipped the handkerchief in the water and dabbed, first at his split lip and then noticed his temple was bleeding on his scarred side. When she tried reaching over to dab it up, the Hound grabbed her wrist. They stared at each other for several moments of tense silence. His grip, his hand looking all the much bigger on her thin wrist, tightened considerably the more she stared at him. Eventually, his lip curled and he snapped, "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm just cleaning up the blood," she said slowly, tugging on her wrist just a bit. Almost reluctantly, he let go of her and she lowered her hand.

"I don't need to be fussed on, little bird. I'm a bloody fucking man."

She looked at him, not flinching at his sudden burst of anger, and told him, "I'm not fussing. You won't be able to see well and you might need stitches."

"Fuck that. Give me the damn cloth," he said, fairly ripping it from her fingers before she could do anything. She settled back on her legs, studying him as he tried wiping away all the blood from his face, cursing whenever he hit a particular tender spot. Despite his talk, he missed a large patch that was still bleeding. She huffed in frustration and, when he lowered his hand, she snatched back the cloth and didn't hesitate to wipe at his face. He jerked away from her, enough that he knocked the bowl onto the ground.

They both froze, staring at each other in complete silence. Each ignored the spilt water on the ground, despite the fact that a good portion of it soaked Sandor's breeches. Slowly, almost reluctant, Sansa scooted a bit closer and tenderly dabbed at the welling blood at this temple. "You still missed a good part of the blood," she said softly, nervous that she might end up startling him again. She expected the Hound to come out, snap at her, tell her cruel words. Instead he stayed quiet, observing her action with dark eyes and a small twitch to the corner of his mouth. She pressed gently against his temple once the rest of the blood had been dabbed up, even though it meant she was leaning across him partially. She glanced at him, unsure how he was going to react to this.

She certainly hadn't expect him to grab her waist and suddenly pull her into his lap. She let out a squeak of surprise and accidently let go of the handkerchief pressed to his temple. Just what was he doing? "What's the matter now, little bird?" he said, smirking. He seemed far too amused with this situation, almost like he enjoyed her discomfort.

"I… I just didn't expect it was all," she stammered, flushing. She reached up again, to reapply the pressure, but he caught her wrist again. This time, he seemed more amused to see her reactions rather than being upset about her touching him. Since she was more balanced on his lap, she used her free hand suddenly reach up and touch his scars. He visibly flinched and made to grab at her wrist, but that nearly dumped her from his lap. He took hold of her again, bringing her much closer than before and making her flush deeply. All the same, she didn't dare look or pull away from him. She doubted he'd ever be able to think she thought better of him than a "scarred, old Dog". She knew that he was so much more than that.

She glanced at his mouth suddenly, intrigued. She wondered if he'd ever want to kiss her. She knew that she'd fantasied about it a bit, about what it might be like, but she'd always flush and feel funny and dismiss the childish thoughts. It was just all too confusing for her. She glanced up at Sandor, who swallowed almost nervous and said hoarsely, "Little Bird…" as if it was some kind of warning. She leaned forward just a bit, testing what he might do. Her stomach was doing circles and she swallowed, nervous.

Just as she was licking her lips and wondering if Sandor would really let her, someone knocked on the door. Sandor fairly shoved her off and onto the mattress. She quickly turned around on the bed to see Shae come in with food. She noted Sandor had pressed the handkerchief to his temple. As one of the maids took over one platter of food, another asked, "Is everything all right, Lady Sansa?" Suddenly, the girl flushed and stammered, "W-we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"

Sansa flushed just as deeply and said, almost too quickly, "No, no, no nothing like that! I was just helping clean up some of the blood." From the look on all of the handmaidens' faces, especially Shae's, it was clear none of them believed her.

She threw a glance at Sandor for help, but he was too busy piling up food onto a platter. The table hadn't even been set yet. She sighed, slightly irritated without his help, and watched as two of her handmaidens put together their table the rest of the way. They nearly flinched away from Sandor. Shae tugged her to the side, distracting her from alternating between watching the maids and Sandor. She shoved a pile of cloths in her arms, most of it looking clean, but a small portion of the soot covered cloak peeked out just enough so Sansa could see it. "I brought an extra table cloth in case that one gets soiled, my lady," she said in her heavy accent, saying it just loud enough that someone else could confirm it while also staying unaware of what was underneath the cloth. Shae even cast a glare over at the large ex-knight as well, clearly from his lack of etiquette.

"Thank you, Shae," Sansa told the girl genuinely, grateful to have somebody that could be on her side for a change.

One of the other girls noticed what Sansa was holding and started coming over. "Milady, you really should let me take care putting that away," she said, ready to take the bundle.

"Oh, no that's fine. I'd prefer to put some things away myself," she said instantly, almost pulling the bundle closer to herself.

"Really, you should start eating-" Shae stepped in then, fairly scowling at the other maid. While she was giving the maid a good lecture, Sansa slipped away to hide the white cloak with the rest of the spare linens. She made a mental note to go back for it later and move it somewhere less obvious. Some of her clothes had already been shoved into a closet, so she put the cloth far into the back in hopes no one would notice.

Since the table was now set up, Sansa wandered over to get herself a bit to eat. After a bit of fussing over drinks for Sansa, the handmaidens kept themselves scarce from the table. They were always hovering. At first, she had thought she was used to it at this point, but clearly she wasn't. Now, she just wanted them away so her and Sandor could talk more. There was so much she wanted to say now, to reassure him that everything was okay with her.

Instead, they sat in silence around their table. Sansa watched him eat, mostly with his bare hands tearing at the bread and ripping apart several game hens. He swallowed his soup as quickly as possible, not noticing a bit of it ended up in his beard. She ate as she always did, daintily cutting her food to pieces and eating just as calmly.

Eventually, nearing the end of the meal that Sandor had basically devoured himself, one of the maids hesitantly came over to Sansa, fairly shaking. She cleared her throat once, but when only Sansa looked at her, she opened her mouth and stammered, "Uh, Ser Clegane-"

He snarled lowly, looking up from his meal, and growled deeply, "I'm no fucking knight. I'm not a fucking man, you stupid cunt-"

"Stop that!" Sansa interrupted, standing up abruptly and sending her chair tumbling to the ground. She was suddenly furious. "I don't want the Hound out at the dining table! This can be a civilized enough meal without you bringing out the Hound to scare my poor maids. _Our maids_. They'd be... they're supposed to be nice to you! Just- just stop it!" She didn't understand the sudden meltdown or the anger and she was so mad that she had babbled her views of his personas that she just spun away from the table and stalked out of the room. She even managed to slam the heavy door on her way out. Despite her anger, she'd never felt so proud to see the confused look on Sandor's face.

 **~A/N~**

 **I can't believe the pickup response to the story! Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites. I've finally finished up this chapter, shorter than I had wanted it, but at the same time I just wanted to end it there. Hopefully, there's a pick up of talking between Sansa and the Hound in the next chapter. It's going to be rough writing the Joffrey scene though because I just want to kill the prick already.**

 **Thank you so much! I just can't tell you how much I appreciate the responses.**

 **XmX**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It wasn't until she was out in the gardens that Sansa slowed her step. Her anger hadn't cooled much, but in the little secluded section of the trees, she could stalk across the grass. She did just that, wringing her hands angrily, but keeping silent. Shae, who had followed her shortly after her outburst, watched her from the edge for quite a while, letting her walk off a bit of her anger. "Is everything all right?" she finally asked.

"No!" she burst out, completely unladylike. She slapped a hand against her mouth and murmured an apology.

"There's no need to apologize," Shae told her almost sympathetically, "Any woman would be upset that she's married to the Hound."

"That's not it. Not at all." Sansa sighed and sat down on one of the small benches she usually used for praying. Shae made her way over to Sansa silently, letting the small redhead blurt out of her thoughts. It was better she did it here rather than in the Keep with all the spies. "He's always been there for me."

Shae scoffed and told her bluntly, "That man is nothing more than a brute."

Sansa couldn't help, but laugh softly. "He's gentler with me. Kinder. He's kept me safe." She sighed again, leaning her head into one of her palms. "It's frustrating that very few get to see this side. But believe me Shae, he does care for me."

"I wouldn't count on it," she replied, not swayed by Sansa's words. Sansa knew exactly what Shae was thinking, that she was still the naive stupid girl from a year ago. But Sansa knew better, she knew Sandor on a level no one else had seen. "He's going to have his way with you, make you hurt in a way no woman should want to, and use you as he needs to. That is what you should believe."

That made Sansa flush and sit up straighter. "I don't need to hear about how uncomfortable tonight will be. I already know-"

"You know nothing. Your lady mother would have made it seem gentler than it will be. Your Septa would have lied. It will hurt, you will bleed, and it will ache to even attempt to close your legs."

Sansa wanted to argue with the foreign girl, defend Sandor for what tonight might be like, and tell Shae that neither her mother nor her Septa would lie about such things. But she found she was lacking in any argument. She was just tired. She settled for the uncomfortable silence and stared out into the trees. She let her anger from Shae's words cool off and let go of her frustrations of Sandor's rude words disappear until she was back to being calm and all ladylike. She let herself think over what this dinner would probably be like for herself and for Sandor.

She was sure Cersei and Tywin Lannister would plot the best ways to break them up before they consummated the marriage. She knew that couldn't happen though… She wanted Sandor there, to help protect her from the worst of the cruelties of King's Landing. She knew it was selfish, to want him to help ease her into a better part of life, but she couldn't help it. She would let this man into her life, would do anything he asked at this point just to get a little relief from this hell she'd been going through.

Still, there was even more than just that to worry about. She had so much she needed to process at this point. She was a married woman now, with a husband and a new duty that didn't include giving the King his heirs. She was starting a whole new part of her life. It should have been thrilling, but instead she vaguely dreaded the idea. Not that it would be with Sandor, but it was the fact she would have yet another person that could be used against her in King's Landing. She already knew that she would do anything to keep him alive; she did marry him after all...

Eventually, Shae nudged Sansa and told the redhead, "It's almost time for the feast."

That made her stomach flip with a whole new set of nerves. She wasn't scared that she had to face the court as Lady Clegane or that it was likely Sandor would shove all the food into his mouth without thinking of any manners. No, it was Joffrey that had her in a nervous wreck. He could control whatever would happen at dinner tonight. He could embarrass both of them in any way he wanted, he could kill her and Sandor both, and, even worse, he could make Sandor take her then and there at dinner.

But she was a Stark. She had the wolf in her blood. She could do this. She took a deep breath and told Shae, "Let's head back.

She settled into a calm pace, trying to keep herself from shaking now. She contented herself with thoughts of what it would be like when she got back to the Keep, what Sandor might have to say to her. She doubted he expected as much, but she told herself again and again that she would not apologize to him for her outburst. He had to know that she would not let him say such cruel words in front of her without her biting back. She didn't care if his words were directed to her or at someone in her service. Her handmaidens were most likely spies for Cersei and Tyrion both (it hadn't been hard to figure out Shae was with him after Blackwater Bay), but she was a Lady and she would not let anyone in her service be treated cruelly. It was not her way.

She figured by the time they'd walked back that she knew all the different scenarios Sandor would say about her outburst. She rehearsed most of what she would say in her head, figuring it could work with most of the situations. But she never thought that when she walked into the room Sandor could be half undressed.

She froze in the doorway, fairly gawking at the large man and completely oblivious to Shae when she bumped into the redhead. Sure, she had watched him train and spar from her window, but never had she been so close to him when he didn't have a tunic on. He looked tall and muscled far away and especially when he was close to her with his armor on. This close up… that was a completely different story. Every part of him, from his arms to his torso and his neck was tightly muscled and, more importantly, littered with scars. On his back alone, they ranged from small nicks to deep, four inch scarred gashes. And, as he turned around, the scarring just got more and more, until all she could see was scars and dark hair across his muscled chest. She should have been disgusted with the scars or extremely upset, but instead, she found they were a bit more appealing.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Sandor's voice snapped her gaze up to his scarred face. She flushed under his scrutiny.

"I was coming back to get ready for dinner. I-I wanted to make sure that you would be ready as well," she told him, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"I'm not fucking presentable," he snapped back, glaring at her.

That was when she caught whiff of what should have been clearly present before. "Are you drunk?" she fairly accused, eyes narrowing just a bit. In response, he lifted the skin of wine she hadn't noticed right away and took a nice deep swig. She pressed her lips together to bite off the retort she had for him. He could get drunk if he wanted, it would make it easier to consummate the marriage. Not that he would want her probably, drunk or sober…

Better not to think about that, she noted when her hands clearly started shaking just a bit. She clasped them together and tried a different approach. "Do you have a change of clothes for the night?"

"Fuck that," he spat. "I'm no bloody girl." He clearly had plenty of opinions on what he would or would not want. She wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose and sigh.

Instead, she tried, "Joffrey is going to want-"

"I don't give a fuck what that cunt wants. I'm not dressing up like a prissy boy."

She let out a puff of breath and muttered under her breath, "Fine," and called Shae back over. She'd noticed the handmaid had tried pretending to be busy cleaning up the new room, but Sansa could tell she was clearly getting worked up with what he was saying. She smiled at Shae and told her, "I'll need some help getting my hair ready for the night. I was thinking…" And she pulled the foreign girl's glowering to tonight's dinner.

It was going to be disastrous one way or the other, but she'd be damned if she wouldn't at least look good.

#  
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By the time the Clegane's finally made it down to their Wedding feast, they were more than half way late into the dinner. First, it started with the fact Sandor decided he wasn't going to go to dinner and that wine was the more preferred option. Enough wine to get him so pissed he was impossible to work with. The Hound came out in full force, uncooperative, bellowing, and throwing around empty bottles of wine and a few breakables. He fairly scared away Sansa's poor handmaidens for good. To make things worse, he wouldn't _put on any tunic._ Sansa tried talking to him calmly, snapping, and eventually just decide to brood in a seat until he finally got dressed.

Joffrey must have gotten annoyed with their being late, for he finally sent down Ser Meryn to fetch them. She cringed the moment the "knight" opened the door to her new chambers and he sneered at her, looking at her with those disgusting eyes of his. But then Sandor caught sight of him. The Hound came out even more, bellowing and snarling something fierce. Meryn stood his ground up until Sandor started coming at him and then the so called "knight" fairly fled from the scene. It made her giggle and gave her a relief she couldn't remember since… She cut off that train of thought and stood up.

The moment gave her patience to try working with Sandor again, so she put away her ruffled feathers and went back over to him with the tunic he'd thrown around the room several times. There was a bit more talking and a lot of grumbling from the man, but eventually she managed to convince him to put the shirt on. That didn't mean he'd be easy to take to dinner either. He tried struggling away from Sansa as they started to dinner, but a few huffs and a bit of bickering from the Stark girl had him leaving their little space. She walked a bit behind him, silent as he staggered and cursed her down the hall.

She'd hoped for a bit more of a quiet dinner, but she could imagine the whispering and the words that would at her about her new husband. The thought made her smile, because now he really was hers… It made her tummy flutter, but she tried ignoring the feeling for the time being. It would be bad for her to start really caring about him now, while they were in the middle of the Lion's Den.

Joffrey looked extremely frustrated that they were running so late. He snapped at them, whined when Cersei scolded him to hush. The Queen Regent just glared at Sansa when she walked in, as if it was all her fault they were in this situation. Tywin studied them silently, almost making Sansa more nervous. She just hadn't had time to figure out what any of his facial features or silence could possibly mean. So, she let herself flush a bit and fidget as if she was scared. She even flinched when Sandor walked near her, as if he'd hurt her before.

They sat down near the middle, the only clear spot still left in the dining area. The whole area was filled to the brim with people, many from the wedding just hours before. They cast glances towards the newlyweds, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Sansa tried shrinking into herself, so unused to the open attention. She poked at her food in front of her, hoping that they were going to keep going with the boring parts of her wedding. She refused to let Joffrey or any of the other men be present during the bedding. She would not go through that humiliation and she hoped Sandor would stop them if they tried.

At first, she thought she could get away with not talking much. Cersei was busy drowning herself in wine, almost as fast as Sandor, Tywin was too busy contemplating and plotting with whatever he was thinking, and Joffrey was busy torturing poor Dantos as well as the singer for the night. A few people stopped by to offer Sansa their "sincerest" congratulations. She kept a false smile on her face, but inside she felt sick from all the pitying looks and words they gave her. Didn't any of them know she'd never felt so lucky in her life since this past year?

During a lag in the performance, Joffrey turned his attention back to her. His lips curled up in a smirk and he said to her, "How does it feel to not only be cast aside, but married off to such a brute?"

She felt her anger glare almost immediately at his words, but she used her courtesies to give him a wan smile and mumbled, "I couldn't expect to be married to anything less. I'm just the daughter of a traitor." She'd hoped that would placate him and she could go back to trying to stomach some food.

"Are you looking forward to tonight? I can't expect rutting around with a Dog, such as our Hound, will be much for what you expected on your wedding night…"

She tuned out the rest of what he said, keeping her expression the same while she watched his mouth move mutely. She could feel Sandor tensing beside her and almost placed her hand on his arm reassuringly, but hesitated. She remembered his warning clearly and kept still. For a few moments, she thought she could make it through the dinner. Then she heard Sandor growling and realized Joffrey must have said something awful enough to make the Hound want to come out and play. She tensed, waiting for Sandor to snap, but Cersei finally decided to cut in. She told Joffrey carelessly, "We won't let them stay married much longer. There's no point in worrying about any bedding."

That distracted Joffrey from Sansa's torture. He turned to his mother, red with fury. Sansa didn't catch what Joffrey started on her about, more concerned about what Cersei might have planned. She hardly paid attention when Joffrey started screaming at Cersei and only stared at them when Tywin got up to placate the two, at least long enough to get them into a more secluded room. "I'll murder that fucker," Sandor growled, low enough that Sansa was sure she was the only one to hear it. He finished up the goblet of wine he had in hand and shoveled more food into his mouth. Deciding not to comment on what he'd said and trying to be discreet, she gently shoved over her full goblet of wine just in reach, and called over the cup bearer for another glass. She was hoping to get enough wine in his system he'd be more pliable when she took him into her bed tonight.

"Sansa!" Joffrey suddenly shouted, breaking her train of thought. Apparently, he'd worked out the fight with Cersei. She noticed the Queen regent paused long enough to glare back at the group and then the Queen was gone.

Reluctantly, Sansa hunched her shoulders and turned her attention to Joffrey. Timidly, she asked, "What is it, Your Grace?"

"I think it's time for the newlyweds to dance. Then we can start with the bedding."

"Bugger off," Sandor grunted, chugging down the goblet of wine Sansa had just pushed over in his direction. "I'm not some fucking toy to play with. I'm going to eat my damn chicken, finish up my wine, and go off to bed with this bloody girl." Sansa's mouth nearly dropped open, but she was at a loss. She couldn't remember the last time someone had dared talk to Joffrey like that.

He scowled at the Hound, this time not so amused by his untamed behavior. "If I tell you something-"

"I'll do whatever the hell I want. No little prissy boy is going to tell me what to do."

Nearly the entire hall fell silent, shocked by what the Hound was saying. Sansa wanted to cover her face and hide, but she was forced to watch the disaster play out. Joffrey looked ready to murder someone, but he took a deep breath and leaned in close to Sandor. He said quietly, his voice dangerously low, "I'm being nice because this is Lady Sansa's wedding night. If you ever speak to me like that again, I'll have her beaten so badly she won't be able to move for a week. Is that what you want to see for your new wife?"

Her face burned with shame and she hunched in her shoulders. She tried to focus on the dessert in front of her and not glance at either boy or man. She kept her face blank and tried to take a bite while the boy king and the Hound stared each other down. Finally Sandor growled lowly at Joffrey and stood up so suddenly he knocked his chair to the ground noisily. He wrenched Sansa up from her seat so suddenly she dropped her silverware with a clang. He started down the hall without another word, grabbing hold of a flagon of wine from one of the wenches as they passed. He ignored Joffery's protests to their departure. Sansa was too stunned to say much, shocked by his abrupt actions, but when he squeezed her arm painfully tight, she whimpered and said, "You're hurting me." She almost added 'Ser', but remembered what had happened the last time she had said that and thought better of it. He let go of her arm, fairly shoving her away from his as if she had burned him.

She didn't know what to say to him, so she followed behind him meekly and kept quiet as he broke up the flagon to start drinking. She just hoped that if he was going to be this harsh tonight, that it would go fast. She didn't know just how painful the night could end up being, but she worried that if the Hound came out to play, he would take her as harshly as he would one of the whores in the brothels or whorehouses she knew most men frequently visited. It did make her heart hurt just a bit to think about what she might have to go through tonight. But she could bite her tongue and take it. She needed this to happen, so she could protect Sandor and in return have a little protection herself.

When they arrived back to their room, all of Sansa's handmaidens were there, ready to come to her attention with wide, almost fearful eyes when they glanced at Sandor. She told them quietly, "You're dismissed for the night." When they hesitated, she gave them a small smile and told them again. Shae was the last one to leave, eying Sandor suspiciously as he cursed and paced around the room. Thankfully, she didn't stop and left the two newlyweds alone.

Sansa didn't know what to say to him now that they were alone. He was pacing and drinking and not looking at her at all. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words. Finally, she just said, "Sandor…"

That stopped him in his tracks. He turned to her snarling, "Don't fucking call me that. I'm the Hound, plain and simple, a dog, a-"

"I don't care what you are!" she interrupted, frustrated. "We're married now, we should stick together."

"Do you think that fucking matters? I don't love you, I never wanted this," he spat, stopping and glaring at her. "I'm no prince that's going to protect you from the demons and bad men. I hurt people. I kill people. I'm a murderer." Sansa flinched at his words, flushing. She knew he didn't feel anything for her. She was just a stupid girl, a bird repeating everything she was taught. But now, now she was his Little Bird…

He took her silence as something else. "Does that make you any happier to say we're married?" he growled.

She lowered her eyes and said, "I'm happy that we're married… You're safe. You've kept me safe for this long and I'm ready to offer whatever protection I can now. If it keeps Joffrey from killing you-"

He snarled, coming at her faster than she could have expected. He grabbed her by her arms, pulling her close, scowling and glaring at her. She swallowed, whatever she was going to say being lost by his sudden movements. She could smell the wine wafting off of him, saw his grey eyes were hazed over by the wine, but he was focused on her clearly. "I didn't need you to fucking save me! I didn't want to be saved. It would have been better if the cunt King killed me!"

He was breathing heavily, staring at her, challenging her to say something. And for a moment, she had no clue what to say to him. Then, she saw it. The look that was in his eyes told her exactly what it was he was thinking as he said those words. She raised one hand, slowly, and touched his cheek gently. "You deserve so much more than to be butchered by a horrible King. You deserve to live, to be free from all of this." He tried to move away from her, but she had hold of his tunic with her other hand. She told him, "I want this. I want to give myself to you. I want to give you everything."

"Bloody hells, girl, I'm not fucking touching you," he growled, but she noticed there wasn't the same amount of venom to his voice that there usually was. He tried to move away from her again and she let him, but just enough so that she could reach behind her to start unlacing her dress. "Little Bird, don't," he rasped, voice hoarse.

Despite what he initially said, Sansa could see he watched her with dark eyes as she began unlacing. Her hands were shaking, but she steadied them as best as she could to make it easier. "I'm offering myself to you. I'm a woman, we're married," she told him softly, undoing the last lacing and finally free of her dress. She let it fall around her, pooling at her feet. She wanted to cover herself up, embarrassed to be seen in just her undergarments, but then she saw the way the Hound, Sandor, looked at her. She stepped out of her dress and straight to Sandor, so close that she could almost touch him. She looked up at him, through her lashes, trying to seem as alluring as possible. Then she said one word, "Please."

That was all it took for him to grab hold of her, crushing her against him, and capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. It might have been all the wine he'd consumed or the fact he'd been laid up in the Black cells without another person around. But she could tell at this moment he wanted her, as much as he might have denied it at the time. He touched her, really touched her, as he kissed her hungrily. She could feel his calloused hands running across her bare skin as he grabbed hold of her, lifting her up, pressing her against him and hoisting her up to their bed.

Never had she thought kissing someone could feel this good.

He wasted no time in kissing her, touching her, exploring. She let herself do the same, touching his scars, his hair, his arms, anything she could get her hands on. He didn't seem to notice, for he was too busy suddenly pulling on her underclothes. She let him do what he wanted, letting her own hands find her way to undo his tunic and unstrap his breeches. She didn't get far before he was lowering her down onto the bed. His mouth found hers again, covering up her sudden moan when he touched her breasts, tugging on one of her erect nipples through the thin fabric.

He pulled away from her staring at her with dark eyes, desire clear in his irises. "Bloody hells, Little Bird," he muttered, leaning down again. He gave her a brief kiss on her lips, taking her bottom lip once more between his teeth. Then he was moving down, kissing at her neck. She arched against him, moaning as he reached a particular spot on her neck. He focused on that spot, sucking and nipping while he tugged on her nipple.

He moved further down, leaving a trail of fire across her skin as he kissed and nipped at her. He tugged at her underclothes, growling when he couldn't move and further. She pushed him away, only long enough to pull the fabric over her head and then he was on her again. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as he took one nipple into his mouth.

She moaned softly, arching again when he found her other nipple and he tweaked and pulled until she felt like a puddle of liquid to his touch. When he released her nipples, he started moving further down, tugging at her small clothes as he kissed and touched his way down to her most intimate parts. He touched her between her legs, gently, slowly at first. She keened against him, moaning breathlessly, feeling like she was on fire. Every touch or kiss sent waves of desire, building up the feeling down between her legs. Then he found something, a little button of pleasure that made her clench and moan and move against him. She raised her head, just enough where she could watch him toy with her, play with her in a way that she never could have imagined.

She tensed suddenly; she could feel him prodding with her fingers, surprisingly gentle, as if asking permission to go further. She swallowed nervously, resting her head back on the mattress and hesitantly pressed forward just a bit as an answer. He slipped in one finger slowly, working it gently and stroking her. He didn't give her much time to adjust, suddenly filling her with a second finger, stretching her. She gasped, clenching around him, as he worked his fingers in and out of her, slowly at first so she could adjust. As he started to pick up the pace, she moaned and moved with him. She met his heated gaze, and was shocked when he suddenly put his mouth down on her, using his tongue to push her even closer to the edge.

It didn't last long before he was rasping, "I want you now."

"Yes," she whispered, watching him rise so he could pull off his tunic and let his breeches fall to the ground. She almost gaped at his manhood, standing erect in front of her to see. It was far bigger than she could have thought… But she focused her gaze on the rest of his body as a whole, the scars and muscles and hair. When he finally leaned down over her to capture her lips once more, she sighed and let her legs fall open for him.

It wasn't long until she could feel him at her entrance, prodding her gently with the head. She wanted to clench automatically, but forced herself to be relaxed and focused on the kissing. She got lost in it so much, that for a moment she thought she wouldn't be able to tell when he moved into her the first time. How wrong she was. The first time he rocked his hips forward, barely pressing into her, she almost pulled away from him, hissing in pain at the sudden intrusion and clenching tightly. It almost burned as he stilled momentarily. "Fuck," he groaned, his own eyes closed. He moved his hips again, barely forward.

"Sandor," she whimpered, tears stinging her eyes. He opened his eyes, looking down at her. "Please, be gentle," she managed out, still tense.

"I'll keep you safe," he rasped quietly, watching her. It was the words he'd told her the night of Blackwater Bay… It brought fresh tears to her eyes, made her heart swell, and gave her the strength to press back against him, allowing him to enter her further despite the pain it brought her. It made him groan unexpected. He pressed into her, working his way slowly to try to ease her through the worst of it. She reached out to clench onto his forearms, working her bottom lip to fight off the mewls of pain. She could feel him trembling, fighting off the desire to take her. And, when he was fully sheathed inside her, filling her unusually full, she managed up enough to kiss him herself. She murmured softly, "Take me," when she pulled away.

The first several thrusts were the worst. It almost felt like she was being torn apart, but she bit her lip and did her duty. She tried to keep quiet the squeaks of pain that came with each thrust, letting him take her without another complaint. The longer he moved inside her, the more she grew used to him. When that pain finally dulled down and was slowly replaced with the pleasure she'd felt with his fingers, she moved as best as she could with his powerful thrusts that were quickly gathering and coming faster and harder. She moaned, arched, and grabbed onto him as best as she could. He pressed closer to her, working his hips, rotating and stimulating. Sansa bit onto his shoulder, sucking and clenching, her moan muffled when he moved especially hard or fast.

When she felt him still suddenly, she knew he was done. He moved in her a few more times, riding out his completion. She was nowhere near her satisfaction, her body fairly sang out the need for a few more moments. He pulled out of her, slowly, so not to cause her any more discomfort, and settled down on the bed. To her surprise, he pulled her to him so she could rest her head upon his chest and press up against him. He murmured to her, so quietly she wasn't quite sure what he said. He was already asleep by the time she lifted her head to look at him. Despite the fact she didn't get the "completion" she'd heard about, Sansa found she was satisfied in a whole different way.

 **~A/N~**

 **So, I finally got this chapter wrote out! I don't know what's wrong with myself but I've rewritten this chapter eight times. I just couldn't find the right tune for it. And I wasn't sure where to end it and I didn't want to have a chapter just about the sex. So it ended up a much longer chapter than what I usually plan. And there was so much editing, on top of actually working (because I'm a bad worker and I type up my stories when I should be working on work work). Hopefully this chapter was pretty decent, chapter six is on its way already! Thanks for sticking through!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

When she woke up in the morning, it was still decently dark outside. There was one small candle still lit, giving off just a little extra glow for Sansa to twist around to check who she was really in bed with. She stared for a long time, at the scarred face of the Hound, Sandor Clegane. It was hard to believe yesterday morning she'd been an unwed young lady and that he'd been locked in the Black Cells.

Now, she was Lady Clegane. She was part of House Clegane. Or was he part of the Stark household now? It made her wonder, since he didn't have the true title to the Clegane Keep. Perhaps Robb would make him one of the Wardens of the North? That way… Wait. What would Mother and Robb say? She hadn't even paused to think about that. Would her Mother accept Sandor into the family? Would Robb take him in as a bannerman?

She felt an unexpected tightness in her chest and quickly banished the thoughts. She went to shift in the bed and felt a sharp twinge between her legs. It brought back the rest of the events of the night, giving her a distraction she definitely longed for. She looked back at Sandor, sprawled across the mattress on his belly, snoring and muttering in his sleep. She was close enough she could prop herself up a bit to reach over and touch his face lightly, the scars rough underneath her fingertips. She traced them as light as a feather, scared that if she woke him up he would be angry. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, not directly, but his yelling and snapping still frightened her occasionally.

She moved from the scars on his face to the ones on his neck and further down, on his exposed back. She traced the patterns, markings, and healed gashes, quietly mapping them all in her mind and wondering just where he got all of these from. She knew he was a soldier of war and destruction, but she still wondered whether he would ever tell her where they came from. She knew the story of the burns, even if he didn't know she knew. But the large cut down his back, wide and extending from his left shoulder to right hip, she knew nothing about. Or the one that looked suspiciously like a sword in his mid-side.

She pulled her hand back when she felt him shift beside her suddenly, grumbling softly and turning so he was on his side again. She got to look at more of the scars crossed over his chest and torso. She reached out to touch them, but thought better of it when she felt him twitch again. So, she snuggled down underneath the comforter and moved so she was close to him again. Almost automatically, she felt him jolt when she settled into his chest, but she kept her eyes closed and her breathing even and didn't look up when she felt him move. He muttered, "Bloody hells," quiet enough that it wouldn't have woken her up had she been asleep.

She felt him touch her hair, almost to see if she was really there, and, when he cursed again, she let herself stir just a bit and look up at him with what she could hope looked like tired eyes. She blinked at him once, twice, and took a look down at herself, bare and half exposed to the ex-Knight. A flush spread across her face, but by the look on Sandor's face, he hadn't fully expected to wake up with her. He'd been so far drunk he couldn't remember most of the night… She managed out, "Sandor-"

"Fucking hells," he muttered again, suddenly moving away from her as if she were a plague. He got off of the bed and started blindly searching for something to cover himself with. In the shadows, she could barely make out the outline of him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as she watched him find his breeches and pull them on.

"I don't know what the fuck happened. I shouldn't fucking be here," he muttered, managing to find the tunic.

"Sandor, wait-"

"Don't fucking start!" he shouted, cutting her off. "I don't know what shit you gave me or what the fuck you think happened, but…" He took one look at her, half exposed and lying in bed and stormed from the room.

She stared after him, through the open doorway and felt tears gather in her eyes. She'd thought they'd met at a middle last night, thought he understood she didn't… She wiped at her eyes angrily, suddenly upset that he'd even think she cared enough to be ashamed of what they'd done. She shoved the comforter aside, ignoring the throbbing pain between her legs and went to the closet where she'd hidden the white cloak. After wrapping herself in a robe, she looked through until she found the cloak. She should have been angry, not wanting anything to do with what reminded her of Sandor Clegane. Instead, she brought the soiled white cloak to her nose, inhaled the still faint smell of fire, smoke, blood and wine and wrapped the white cloak over her shoulders.

She went around the room, lit up the candles so she could see something and paused to look into the mirror. She stared at the reflection of herself holding one candle, looking tired, wrapped in a soiled cloak covered in red and black, and a fancy robe tied around her body. It made her smile softly and she pulled the cloak just a bit closer with her free hand. She set the one candle by her bedside, took one look at the sheets and cringed. They were soiled, covered in blood and a dried, milky white substance that she imagined came from their coupling. Deciding it was best to leave it so that Cersei's spies could report back to her, she grabbed the candle again, took a quick look over her shelves and plucked an intriguing bound book from the middle shelf. She settled down in the large bay window, resting against one of the fluffy pillows, to read a bit, watch the sun rise, and try to forget that her new husband wanted nothing to do with her. She kept the cloak tight around herself and burrowed down to wait for her handmaidens.

It didn't take long for Shae to come first, as was the usual routine. As soon as the sun was beginning to peak up above the waves of the ocean, she came. The foreign maid looked mildly surprised to see Sansa up and alone. She came over to Sansa, who'd unwrapped the cloak from around herself and took the book from her hand. "How are you feeling this morning, Milady?" she asked, folding up the cloak before Sansa had a chance to.

"I'm sore," she admitted, wincing when she shifted too much too quickly.

"I'll have one of the other girls draw a bath for you," she said quietly, quickly looking over Sansa. "You don't look as if the man attacked you."

"I know," she said, feeling defensive. She hesitated, then told her, "I had to persuade him to even touch me and he was patient when I needed him to stop."

Shae raised her dark brows and asked, "Why did you persuade him to do anything? If he wasn't going to take you-"

"The Queen regent would try to break the marriage otherwise," she admitted quietly, letting the girl fuss with her tangled hair. "And this way, he can keep me safer and I him."

Shae clucked her tongue, tugging through her hair harshly suddenly with the brush. "It was a stupid idea. You are stuck with the man now until either of you die."

She whispered so quietly she almost thought Shae couldn't hear her, "He'll keep me safe. He promised me he would."

"I would not count on it," Shae told her, sounding annoyed. The foreign girl stood up suddenly, telling Sansa, "I will go see if those other girls can get the bath ready now. I imagine you would like to soak in a hot bath for a bit."

Slightly annoyed, but biting her tongue, she said, "Yes that sounds like a grand idea Shae. Thank you." The maid hesitated a moment, staring at Sansa with a mixed emotions, and then stalked from the room without a word. Sansa stood up, wincing, and made her way back to her closet to hide the cloak. She went back to stare out the window until her handmaidens had come and with buckets of steaming water. When she looked over at the doorway, the three other maidens bowed automatically while Shae continued to the tub with her bucket.

"It should only be a moment, Milady," one of the girls told her when Sansa started to rise.

"Thank you. I do believe I will need some fresh linens also."

She noticed the three girls all shared a look with one another immediately following her words. One of them managed to stammer out and, once she'd dumped one bucket, went over to clean up the bed. Another handmaiden came over to help her undress, but she shrugged off her help, walked over to the tub and let the robe fall to the ground. She sank into the water, hissing softly at the slight pain she felt when the hot water touched her loins.

For a while, the maidens just let her soak as they bustled about the room. Eventually, the youngest of them came over and offered to help scrub down her hair. She took the offer gratefully, glad to not have to move too much. The silence, aside from the maidens soft murmuring in the background, was calming. She let herself relax in the water, trying to push aside all the stress she'd been feeling the past week, and ignoring what Sandor had not done this morning. She couldn't believe he'd barely acknowledged her existence- "Milady can I ask you something?" The young handmaiden scrubbing her hair paused, waiting to see if Sansa would reply to her.

Immediately, Sansa nodded and smiled at her sweetly. "Of course you can."

"… How was last night? Was it magical like the girls talk about in the kitchens? … Or was he as rough as he seems like?" She stared at Sansa with wide, childlike eyes. It made Sansa giggle softly.

She dropped her voice to a whisper and told her, "It had been interesting. He made it a lot less painful than it had to be for a first time. He waited until I told him it was okay to move and he made sure I at least got a good feeling out of it."

Her eyes, wider if possible, begged for Sansa to go on. "What all did he do to you?" she breathed, pausing again.

Sansa flushed and stammered, "O-oh, I'm not sure-"

"Just a little bit. I've just been so curious and the girls downstairs are always so vague. Please, Milady?"

Reluctantly, Sansa told her quietly everything that she had seen Sandor do. She was flushed bright red by the time Shae came over with a drying cloth. They'd dumped in some soothing oils to help with the pain she felt between her legs and scrubbed her until she was pink. She wondered about Sandor as she was dried off and dressed. More than that, she wondered if Joffrey would call for her for breakfast. It was still pretty early in the morning…

Voicing her thoughts, one of the maidens were polite enough to inform her, "King Joffrey thought it be best if you had time to rest with your husband today, Milady."

Too bad he wasn't here.

She ended up taking a walk with Shae to the Gardens and, more importantly, to the Godswood they had there. She couldn't be certain if the Old Gods could hear her prayers with the tiny spring of Weirwood they had, but surely the Seven could help her in this time. She would go by the Sept afterwards to give them thanks. She prayed, asking for some guidance in the next steps ahead of her. She stayed there for some time, taking in the silence of the woods and the brief relief from the smells of King's Landing. The trees could mostly cover the stench of waste and rot.

Shae waited for her patiently, pacing when Sansa began taking too long. With some hesitation, Sansa ended the prayer, asked Shae to escort her to the Sept, and began giving thanks to each of the Seven. She stopped at each statue, murmured quietly the thanks for her marriage and asking for many years. Eventually, she even stopped at the statue of Stranger, and prayed that their time together would be long before he took either of them.

Shae waited patiently through all of this, muttering very little complaints over how long she was taking. For a while still, she hadn't thought much of Sandor, pushing aside any voices of concerns with the fact she wasn't seeing him at all while they walked. Faintly, she wondered if he was at one of the Brothels or getting piss-drunk.

She tried to ignore the ache she felt in her chest at that thought.

She dismissed Shae by the time they got to her Chambers, too antsy to try to be polite to the girl. She paced around the room, tidied up the closet and hid the cloak better. She moved, tried to read, and eventually just ended up sprawling across the bed. She just couldn't focus, not while she wondered where Sandor could have possibly wandered off to.

It was late afternoon when someone knocked on her chambers. She got herself settled into the window seat, looking all ladylike and called out, "Please enter."

She was more than surprised to see Petyr Baelish open up her chamber door. For a moment, she felt a panic because there was no one around and she didn't fully trust the man in front of her. She'd be foolish to trust anyone, she knew that. Still, she managed to remember her courtesies and said, "Lord Baelish, I certainly didn't expect to see you here. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She stood up, holding in the wince she was growing used that day.

"I was just stopping by to check up on how you are doing, Lady Sansa. I've heard some unfortunate news that…"

She bowed her head and said, "Yes, King Joffrey thought it was best if I was wedded."

"Queen Cersei has told me it was Sandor Clegane. I had to make sure that he hasn't hurt you in anyway-"

She interrupted him before he could get much further. "No, he's done no such thing. There was some discomfort last night when he… well… But he was very much gentle with me as much as he could be." It didn't go unnoticed the way his mouth set in a thin line and how his body tensed. The way he looked at her, almost like he was disgusted so suddenly. Why would he care?

She didn't hear what he said afterwards, just looked at him blankly, until he seemed to be getting ready to leave. That was when they heard the slam of the chamber door. Sansa fairly jumped out of her skin and she noticed the way Petyr Baelish suddenly tensed. When she looked around the lanky man, she saw it was Sandor Clegane that had the man tense. He brought her out of the thoughts she'd been thinking and she heard him growl, "The fuck do you think you're doing here?"

She could smell the wine on him almost instantly and knew he'd been drinking at once. When Littlefinger looked the man up and down and smiled in his slimy way, Sansa was quick to step in by saying, "Perhaps we could continue this a different time. I find that I'm in need of speaking to my husband before dinner tonight."

"Of course Lady Sansa. I believe Joffrey will be looking forward to your company tonight."

She tensed and immediately said as politely as she could, "Please tell him that tonight would not be a good night, but we will both be very happy to come tomorrow. It's been a very busy day today." Stiffly nodding, Petyr Baelish bid her a good night and fairly fled from the room when Sandor growled at him. Then it was just the two of them alone.

For a while, they stared at each other. She wasn't sure just what to say to him and eventually managed out, "I was thinking to get something brought up for dinner soon. Shae should be here shortly-"

"I'm not fucking hungry," he snapped, walking towards the bedroom. "Just get wine."

She took a deep breath, watching him for a moment, and then asked him, "Where did you go today?"

That stopped him in his tracks. He spun around to glare at her, but he didn't say anything. Not at first anyway. He studied her, with that glare, and eventually managed out, "The fuck do you care?"

"I worried about you today. You were gone and I was afraid… you wouldn't come back."

He growled at her, and snapped, "Don't fucking start with me. You should be glad if I don't come back-"

"I want you though!" She covered her mouth in shock, flushing deeply. Eventually, she mumbled, "I'm glad that we're married, glad that you took me last night. It's… it's what I've wanted!" Which, even she hadn't been a hundred percent certainly until this moment.

He studied her, untrust clear in his eyes. Eventually, he began to laugh, startling her. "I don't know who the fuck put you up to this-"

"Sandor! Just stop it! Can't you imagine that perhaps I don't hate you? That I'm not revolted by the sight of you when I see you? Stop being so cruel and just let me help somehow!" Tears stung in her eyes, but she wiped them away and took a step forward to him.

"I'm not the one who's cruel, Little Bird," he sneered, but he didn't look amused like he usually did. In fact, he looked a bit frightened.

"You are being cruel! I understand the difference when the world is being cruel and when a man is just frightened of what could possibly be happening and that he needs to lash out! That's what you're doing right now. I don't need that, I just need you to try with me. We're alone here. Joffrey is going to start wanting to torture us and I can't do it on my own anymore. There's no one here, but you. I can't even talk openly in the gardens!"

He stared at the fuming redhead, who looked on the verge between tears and yelling more. Eventually, she made her way over to the bed, sat on the edge and just let herself cry a bit. She hated that she was this upset, but between worrying over what Joffrey might do, where Sandor had been, and how her family might react had worn her down to the last straw. So, for a moment, she let herself cry. After several moments, she heard Sandor mutter, "Bloody hells, Little Bird." But he came over to her and she felt the bed dip as he sat beside her. He smelt of sweat and wine and it was such a natural smell, that she automatically leaned into him, resting her head onto his shoulder as she sniffled.

He was tense, she could feel it in his shoulders, but she didn't dare move until he'd relaxed or said something else. To her surprise, he let her lean against him without much of a complaint and gave her a place to lean on.

They stayed that way some time, until there was another knock on the door. Sansa sat up hesitantly, wiping at her eyes quickly and went to answer the door. She paused for a moment and told Sandor quietly, "Thank you," before she went to answer the door.

 **~A/N~**

 **Thank you for all of the reviews! I've been really enjoying writing the chapters so far, already half way through the ninth chapter and I'm nowhere near where I'd planned to be originally. I had thought it would be 10 chapters only, now it's looking to be between 12 to 15 instead!**

 **To CatTheWall, as much as I'd like to try Sandor's POV, I didn't plan to do anyone's except Sansa's. In the future, I may write a little spin-off of his POV as a separate fic. If I decide to do that, of course I will let you know! Thank you for the suggestion!**

 **I can't thank you enough for the reviews and feedback!**

 **XmX**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

To say they had a rough start to their marriage was an understatement. Sansa felt as if she was at the last string of her patience the following weeks. They bickered, he drank, and half the time she wasn't even sure what all was going on. Some days Sandor couldn't seem to get far enough away from her. She'd snap at him on those days more than anything and worry just what all he could be up to. He'd yell back at her, drink more, and wonder off if things got too heated. When he didn't return shortly, her mind began to wander. The worst was when she wondered if Joffrey would one day decide to kill him and marry her off to someone else, someone so much crueler.

It scared her even more to imagine if Sandor just decided not to come back to her.

Despite all of that, she still let him have his way with her. Never had she imagined that she could enjoy kissing or touching him. It was usually only at night that he could look at her as more than just a nuisance. And he had to be drinking to take her. They had a bad start to that too. It was several nights after their first consumption that he'd even lay in the bed with her, much less touch her. And it took over a week before he'd taken her again and that had taken a good amount of wine. It made her feel worse, like she was nothing he could possibly want.

Still, he could make her forget when he touched her. He might not always want her, but when he did take her, he made sure she could enjoy it at least. He played with her, made sure she was a puddle at his feet, and wet before he'd take her. And it wasn't always the same as the first night. Some nights, he took her when she was on her knees, pressing her into the mattress as he thrust into her. Others, he took her like he had the first night. And then there was the few times he was so drunk he just took her wherever she was standing.

When he'd done that the first time, coming into the room, he grabbed hold of her and pulled her to him in a bruising kiss. He'd stunk of wine so heavily, it was the worst she'd seen him in. But his hands still found the right places, instantly coming and stroking between her legs until she was whimpering to his touch. He'd bent her over the table that night, hiked up her dress and slammed himself into her without warning. It had hurt a bit, but the pleasure she'd felt as he'd worked himself faster and harder into her was worth the quick pain. He managed to stroke her between her legs a few times, as he slowed and picked up the pace, and then he'd stilled in her.

For a moment, she'd thought he'd finished, but then he was stroking her, playing with that little button of pleasure. He moved in her, thrusting gently, just enough to where he could still focus between her legs. She clenched around him, moaning and whimpering louder and louder until something broke inside of her. She clenched around his manhood tight, and finally, finally she came. He stopped touching her the moment she slumped against the table, exhausted, and then he'd started thrusting again. She squeaked in surprise, so sensitive that she almost couldn't handle him taking her. Still, that pleasure began to build up again, quicker this time the harder he thrust into her, grabbing hold of her hips to drive into her. Just as she reached her peak that second time, calling out his name, he finished with her, giving her one last hard thrust.

She just never could be sure what it was he felt with her. He no longer yelled at her as if she were the dumbest girl he'd ever met. If she ever tried to be affectionate, friendly or kind, he closed up to her, snapped, and went to drown himself in wine. She didn't understand his reactions, nor did she understand why he shoved her away unless he was drunk. It was something they'd need to address. She knew eventually they'd have to talk, but it was easier to drown in the wine and physical coupling. So, they didn't talk, at least for the time being. That would have to change eventually, but she decided to worry about it later. There were plenty of other things to worry about more. And that was King Joffrey.

He seemed to enjoy the fact they didn't really enjoy each other's company. Dinners were awkward, they hardly talked to each other, and Joffrey lived to see them both miserable. Margery came to Sansa often, asking about what it was like to be married, what the Hound was like and many, many questions about Joffrey. A week after the marriage, Joffrey set Sandor to work, mostly inside the castle. He went through training soldiers or running messages and a few times the Hound even ended up working with Maester Pycell and the ravens.

The first night he worked with the ravens, he came to Sansa when he wasn't drunk. He had a serious look on his face, one that told her whatever was going on was serious. She thought it could be something bad, worse than she could have ever imagined. Then he discreetly pressed a letter into her hand and gruffly told the maids, "All you go fetch some food from the kitchens. And bring wine!" The girls hesitated and he fairly shouted at them to get out. He had even less patience with them.

For once, Sansa couldn't say a word, stunned at the letter in her hand. Because she recognized the writing. She hadn't seen it in ages, but… She looked up at Sandor when she heard the doors closed and asked timidly, "How did you get this?"

"Managed to grab the bird before the old bastard saw it," he grunted, sitting down at the table across from her. He cracked open the flagon of wine in hand and, after a good chug, asked, "You gonna read it?"

Hands shaking, she flipped the letter and broke the wax seal of House Stark. Robb's handwriting filled the entire first half of the parchment, very little ink smeared and neater handwriting than she could ever imagine. Glancing at the other half, she saw Mother's handwriting, far crisper than her brother's. "Oh, Sandor, thank you," she breathed, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Better off to read it first," he grunted, looking uncomfortable. She did just that, taking in the words as quickly as she could.

 _Lady Sansa,_

 _I doubt if you'll receive this letter. But Mother and I both felt it was necessary to at least try, in the hopes that the Lannisters have loosened their grip on you now that you've been wed. We can't tell you much, only that we've heard plenty of news from our spies and ravens we've sent. The biggest is the news of your marriage. I haven't been able to find the right words to express what it is that I felt. Because you shouldn't have just been sold off as some animal to, what rumors have said, is a brutal, harsh man with no lands to give you and probably no way to protect you. He was a Lannister dog, had been under their control for as long as I or any of us can remember._

 _Yet, I feel that you would have found a way out, had it truly been as bad as Mother has been expressing. She is furious, scared and worried for you so much dear sister._

 _For now, all I can say is that I hope you are well. I hope that Hound is treating you as you should be. Because, when we do finally rescue you, I will make sure you are given justice for any wrong doings he may have caused you too._

 _Robb Stark, King of the North_

Sansa could feel herself crying the more she read Robb's letter. She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth to cover the half smile she could feel forming on her face. She wanted to tell Sandor what she'd read, but the urge to read Mother's part first became her concern. She focused her blue eyes on the next letter inside.

 _Sweet Sansa,_

 _Oh, my daughter. My sweet, gentle daughter. When I heard that you'd been wed, I was furious. They never should have married you to some man, so much older, brutal and cruel. You deserve more, so much more my daughter. I don't understand what they could possibly be thinking. I've been trying my hardest to come for you, to rescue you from everything that is happening to you down in King's Landing. But I can't do it alone and Robb is moving as quickly as he can. Hold tight my dear. We will get you out of this._

 _I promise we will be there for you._

 _Try to write, send word that you're okay._

 _We love you,_

 _Catelyn Stark_

She couldn't believe she'd finally heard from her family, from Robb and Mother. They hadn't expressed disgust to her marriage, only concern. It was the best thing she could have ever hoped for! She stood up from the table, almost unable to put the letter down, and threw her arms around Sandor in a hug. He cursed her, the fact she'd almost spilt his wine, but she didn't care. She even had the audacity to lean up and plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "You have no idea what this means to me," she whispered quietly, staring up at him. "Thank you."

He grunted in return, muttered, "Let go, Little bird." But his gruff attitude couldn't push aside the feelings she felt.

She grinned at him and let go long enough to pick up her letter again. Settling back into his lap, she asked him, "Do you think you could send a letter without being caught? Just the one?"

He stared at her; the sweet redheaded young lady staring at him with wide blue eyes and smiling at him like he was the most important person in the world. It unnerved him, made him frustrated, so he snapped, "I'll fucking try." He took another swig of the wine, just as the chamber doors were opened. In an instant, Sansa shoved the letter into her sleeve, hoping the soft whisper of the parchment would be unnoticeable when she moved her arms.

The handmaidens paused as soon as they entered the room, seeing Lady Clegane upon her husband's lap, but they were quick to continue moving, trying not to stare. Sandor shifted under her, clearly uncomfortable, and reluctantly she slid down, telling him as vaguely as possible, "I can have it done tonight then."

"Fine," he grunted, taking another drink of wine and attempting to not look at her. She sat in her chair again, smiling at her maidens as they laid out the food.

Suddenly so bright, she attempted to make conversation with the Hound. He grumbled, shrugged off her attempts, but he never really snapped at her the more she chirped on. The handmaidens bustled about quietly, jumping into the conversation if one of them found a particularly interesting topic. She talked with them all happily, pausing between bites and daintily sipping at the glass of water in front of her. She just never preferred wine, she didn't have the taste for it.

It was late by the time the dishes had been cleared away and the handmaidens had left for the evening. Sansa had brushed off their attempts to help her settle in for bed. She waited until they were gone, and then she settled down with some parchment and ink. Finally, after so long, she began to write to her family.

 _Mother, Robb,_

 _You cannot imagine how happy I am to hear from you. I was never sure if you truly did write or not. This is the first letter I've been able to get a hold of and it's all because of my husband Sandor Clegane. He's been able to help me send this letter as well._

 _Please understand, neither of us had a choice when it came to our marriage. King Joffrey would have killed us both had we not complied. And at first, neither of us had been excited for this marriage. I've discovered he is by far a better man than anyone has given him credit for. He's kept me safe from those who were so cruel and brutal. He saved me from a mob. He kept my virtue safe and more importantly, he's made sure I am safe. He's a good man, a gentle one. Don't fret on us, for there is much more to worry upon._

 _At this time, I'm marginally safe in King's Landing. But I can't promise that will last forever. Please, hurry as best as you can and save Sandor and I both from the clutches of the King. I love you both so much, I cannot wait for our reunion,_

 _Lady Sansa Clegane_

She could only hope that no one would see this letter. She used some candle wax to seal the letter, content with what she wrote. She brushed her hair over one shoulder, looking over at Sandor. He was sprawled across the bed with a flagon of wine in hand. She watched him quietly, and then asked, "When will you be working with the Maester next?"

"Tomorrow morning," he grunted, barely glancing at her.

"I'll put the letter in your breeches for tomorrow then? That way, none of the handmaidens can find it." He grunted again in response, drinking some more. She looked at him for a moment, waiting to see if he'd say anything else. Eventually, she stood up and, after tucking the letter into his breeches hanging up, she wandered over to the bed. "Sandor."

He didn't look at her, not right away, until she repeated his name. "The hell you want, Little Bird?" he growled, looking annoyed.

"We should talk," she told him, waiting to see his reaction.

"There's nothing to fucking talk about," he snapped, taking another drink of wine.

"There is a lot to talk about. We haven't really talked since the wedding and-"

"There's nothing, Little Bird. We're fucking married, that's all there is to it." She bristled under his sneering look as he glared at her.

"There's plenty. We haven't talked about our futures, the lands, and more importantly, what I said during that first night-"

"Bugger off," he said, looking away from her, suddenly intrigued more in the wine than before.

"Don't dismiss me like that," she said heatedly, frustrated. "I deserve to be treated more respectfully than that. I'm your wife-"

"Stop saying that," he snarled, glaring at her so harshly it silenced her. "It doesn't fucking mean a damn thing. We are not some fucking happily married people looking forward to each day. You don't love me, I don't love you, it's all just a screwed up sick joke for some King-"

"Stop it!" she said, her voice choking. He finally looked at her since she spoke to him, looked at the way her cheeks had suddenly gone red and her eyes had filled with tears. "I'm giving myself to you. I've told you, I wanted this! I want you. I care about you. I-I-" She started to cry, covering her eyes in shame at the tears. "W-we've been getting along w-ell en-enough. I- I thought that…"

"Fucking hells girl, don't start crying," he snapped, sitting up enough to where he could grab hold of her. She cringed from his touch instantly, shaking off his hand and turning away from him.

"You don't care. So just leave me alone," she fairly shouted at him, getting out of the bed and going to the window seat instead. She curled up in the seat, keeping her back to the bed and staring out the dark window. Thankfully, the breeze was warm, so she didn't get chilled. She let her head rest against the wall, letting her eyes close. She didn't hear Sandor move to get out of the bed and that made her chest ache just a bit more. But she didn't dare look at him or move to get comfortable. She stayed there stubbornly until she fell asleep.

 **~A/N~**

 **Thank you so much for the positive reviews! I can't believe how much this has exploded! Thank you so much! Hopefully this is as good as you've all imagined it.**

 **R &R!**

 **XmX**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Waking up the next morning, she expected to be stiff and uncomfortable. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised to find herself in bed, covered and tucked in comfortably. Had Sandor brought her to bed at some point? The sun had risen quite high in the morning already, telling her that she'd slept in far later than she usually did. She sat up, stretching out the small kink in her neck, and glanced around the room. There was a bit of food spread across the dining table, the room had been cleaned up (to her surprise), and she could smell a fresh bath. It was then she noticed Sandor was still there, in the side room, bathing. She couldn't help, but stare at him as he scrubbed himself down. He'd left the side room open, rather than closing it with the curtain she'd had set up. She watched as the water ran down his back, through the lines of scars and swallowed loudly, suddenly dumbstruck. Seeing him, naked and wet, made her tingle just a bit between her legs.

Then he turned around and saw she was looking right at him.

Almost immediately, she flushed and looked away. She heard him chuckle, as if it was the most amusing thing ever. It got her up and moving, slightly angry. "Little Bird," he rasped, calling to her. She stopped almost immediately, but didn't turn to him.

"What do you need?" she asked sharply, ignoring the fact she knew she should have been politer.

"The cunt king needs us for lunch today. Gonna have to head there soon."

"That's fine. I'll have a bath drawn once you're finished," she said, trying to sound uninterested.

"Won't have time for that, Little Bird." She turned to him, eyes narrowed. He had that look on his face and a grin to match it. The corner of his mouth twitched and he suddenly took a good look over her. "Gotta come join me, girl."

She flushed almost immediately and retorted, "I don't have to do anything with you."

"Saw you looking at me. Better off to do it now, before I have to get out and grab you myself."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you drunk already this morning?"

He let off a barking laugh, and told her, "Not a drop, Little Bird."

She flushed, suddenly embarrassed. "I-I don't know-"

He growled, "Come here." Reluctantly, she walked over to the tub. She wasn't sure just what he was going to- "Take off your shift." She almost opened her mouth to argue with him, but then she realized that he had that look in his eyes. That look that he had when he was drunk and ready to have her. Did he actually want her now, clearheaded?

Undoing the laces, she let the shift slip down off her shoulders and pool onto the ground. She was bare underneath, so he got a full look of her nakedness in the light. She let him take a moment to look over her, then he growled and told her, "Get into the bin." Slightly thrilled that he wanted her so suddenly, she didn't hesitate to step into the warm water.

The tub was far smaller with two people than when she was alone, so it didn't leave much room to settle down except on Sandor's lap. When she did that, she gasped because she could feel his manhood, hard, pressing against her inner thigh. She noticed he was looking at her and then he touched her. Nothing much, just lightly running a hand across her bare shoulders into her hair. The tingles she got from his touch alone made her moan softly, rubbing slightly against him. He growled lowly and tugged her closer, greedily kissing her. She was so surprised by the sudden change in him, for a moment she had no clue how to react. Then she started kissing him, curious. What had changed with him so suddenly that he wanted her like this, so early and without wine? He certainly didn't have the stench of wine, so he was definitely clearheaded.

Shaking off the thoughts, she knew what it was he was working up to. So, she took that next step. She eased herself up enough, just so that his manhood stood erect and she was able to slowly lower herself upon it. He groaned at the unexpected tightness and she whimpered against his mouth. She was so used to him stretching her out, it was a little uncomfortable to be suddenly filled. But she moved her hips, lifting herself up enough just so she could tease him a bit and eliciting another groan from him. He let her move against him, taking hold of her hard nubs and twisting them until she mewled in pleasure and almost stopped moving. He shifted his hips, driving into her slowly, leaning forward to take one nipple into his mouth.

When she'd stopped moving completely, so overwhelmed by the sensations, he stopped his ministrations, released her nipples, and rasped, "Wash yourself. You need to get cleaned for the midday meal."

She whimpered, "Sandor…"

"Do it and I'll let you finish." She moaned when he moved in her suddenly, but he stilled just as quickly. She nodded her head and started wetting down her hair.

The more she got herself cleaned, the more Sandor moved, touched her, and brought her closer to her pleasure. She watched him watch her, his eyes dark and hungry with want. When she began to scrub her body, he finally took over. It sparked even more pleasure, as he ran the wet cloth across her skin. She pressed further onto him, arching into his touch. "Please," she fairly begged when his hand dipped underwater and rubbed down between her legs, barely brushing against her button.

She knew she should have been mad at him for how he'd reacted last night. She knew it was wrong for her to let him take her and let him believe he could get away with whatever he said. But she couldn't help herself, she let him pull her close, bit down on his shoulder when he began thrusting into her and moaned and keened into all of his touches and movements. She moved with him, barely stilled when he began to work between her legs and touched her nipples. Finally, as she began to tense and was about to come to her peak, he stopped touching her and began to move his hips, thrusting into her harder and harder until she began to clench around him. Water sloughed out onto the floor, but Sansa found she didn't care. She was _there_. He drew out his name from her lips when she began to come. She felt him still for just a moment, heard him as he breathed her name against the nape of her neck, and she knew they were done.

He let her slump against his bare chest, his arms wrapped loosely around her. Overwhelmed by all that she had just experienced, she rested her head upon his chest, catching her breath and letting her eyes close. "What the hell are you after for, Little Bird?" she heard him ask quietly. After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Why do I have to be after anything?" she asked softly.

He grunted, "Everyone's after something here in the South."

She lay her head back against his chest, closing her eyes, and murmuring, "I'm just after you." She felt him tense against her.

Eventually, he managed out lowly, "I'm won't be a good fucker. I won't be kind or treat you like all those stupid princes you've read about, Little Bird. I can't promise anything."

"I never expected you to be. I want you as you are." Was he actually doing what she asked? He had to be. He was actually talking to her. She looked up at him, eyes much brighter than before. She reached up to touch his face, his scars, but he moved away from her hand, looking more irritated. Reluctantly, she settled her hand back to his chest and told him, "This was all I wanted to talk about. What each of us expect out of the other… I don't know if you'll ever care for me, but honestly, I'm happy that we've been wedded."

"…" Gruffly, he told her, "Time to get out. The cunt will probably be expecting us soon."

As if on cue, the chamber doors opened. In an instant, Sansa had grabbed hold of the drying cloth hanging beside the wash bin and attempted to cover herself. Shae walked in, a gown thrown over her arms. She stopped as soon as she saw Sansa and Sandor, Sansa half covered and flushed in shame and Sandor simply glaring at her, but making no effort to cover himself up. Shae bowed her head, muttering, "Sorry, milady, milord. I was told the King is expecting you both shortly."

"O-oh, yes, is that the gown that was picked out?" Sansa stammered, managing to rise out of the tub enough that she could cover herself before the foreign handmaiden could see anything.

"Yes, milady. I can help you get dressed, unless you'd prefer-"

"No, no that's all right. Let's just…" She quickly tugged aside the small curtain so Shae wouldn't be able to see Sandor when he finally stepped out. Faintly, as she was patted dry, she could hear Sandor standing and getting out of the washbin.

Shae looked extremely unimpressed the longer they were alone. She laced up Sansa's dress, brushed and styled Sansa's hair up high, and made sure that she looked stunning. As soon as Sandor had finally dressed himself and brushed what hair he could over his scars, he came around the curtains where Sansa was at. Shae took one good look of the large man, fairly scowled at the ex-Knight and muttered to Sansa, "Is he any more presentable than that?"

Sansa giggled and told her, "Not to worry, I prefer it this way. It'll keep King Joffrey a bit more intimidated."

Shae huffed and told her, "You better hurry up. The King hates to be kept waiting."

"Thank you," she said to the dark haired girl truthfully and turned to Sandor expectantly. She couldn't keep the slight glow from her face or the small smile. She felt so much better about the situation than she had weeks ago when they were married. Finally, finally things seemed much more settled.

They started out by themselves, already knowing where exactly Joffrey would want to have the meal. For once, neither of them were bickering or snapping. Sansa walked side-by-side with Sandor, glancing at him occasionally and smiling all the while. She didn't think anything could bring down her mood, not even Joffrey.

The hall had fallen silent the moment they stepped foot into the room. Sansa kept her head ducked, making herself seem compliant and a bit scared. She didn't trust herself to look up and keep her face straight. Thankfully, it didn't look like any food had been served yet, so they were still relatively early. Sandor took the lead to step up in front of the King. He bowed his head and Sansa curtsied and entertained Joffrey for those few moments he always wanted. He looked unusually pleased and so very happy. She also noticed the lack of Queen Cersei and Tywin Lannister. They'd been very absent from many meals since the wedding. To her surprise, she noted Lady Margaery wasn't there. That was extremely unusual.

As the Cleganes settled at their usual table, Joffrey asked, "So, Lady Sansa, how has your day been going?"

"It has been a fine morning today, My Grace. More so that you've been gracious enough to invite my husband and I for the midday meal," she chirped, trying to look so happy by that prospect. She didn't glance at Sandor, she could already feel him tensing up beside her. She wanted to do the same. Usually, if he was being this polite, there was always a terrible catch.

"Yes, yes. Well, I've received some very pleasant news for you, milady. It came to us by a raven this morning."

She tensed immediately, suddenly wide eyed. She didn't look at Sandor, didn't dare send him a glance. Had her letter been found? Or, had something happened to Robb and Mother? She managed out, "I'm quite excited to hear any pleasant news from you, My Grace." Before he could go into more detail, the food was brought out. Sansa took the distraction gratefully, settling into a quiet conversation with the young lady beside her. Sandor focused more on the wine poured for him and didn't bother trying to converse with anyone.

Eventually, after everyone had started eating and began talking amongst themselves, Sansa had almost forgotten that Joffrey had wanted to say much to her. But he'd kept looking at her, smirking and watching her closely. It made her tense and more nervous. Her appetite had begun to drop until she couldn't make herself eat anything else. So she went with picking at her food and attempting to slide any over to Sandor if no one was looking. He'd glared at her the first two times she'd done it, but he didn't complain to her about it either.

When they accidentally bumped hands at one point, it made Sansa feel so warm and tingly she couldn't keep the small smile off of her face.

That was when Joffrey attacked. He called to Sansa again, drawing everyone's attention up front. "Now, Lady Sansa, can you tell me what is a cause for our celebration today?"

Had they been celebrating? She found that hard to believe, considering not even Ser Dantos had been here to keep Joffrey entertained. Still, she answered as best as she could thinking, offering, "Probably a cause for a great victory on your half, My Grace. Has something happened in the battle field for your side?"

He seemed mildly impressed by Sansa's answer. He gave her a smile with his wormy lips and told her, "Why, yes something very grand has happened. I figured you would be so inclined to hear exactly what has happened."

"I always want to hear any news from Your Grace. It's always so insightful," she said, feeling dumb by what she was saying. Yet, she knew this was exactly what he wanted. So she gave him her best smile and waited to hear what ghastly thing she'd have to listen to now.

"It's news from Winterfell, milady. I'm sure you're just so pleased to hear about them."

That stopped her heart. She tried to keep her eyes from widening or the look of panic flicker across her face. She stammered out some reply, trying to keep her voice even. Joffrey just smirked at her, looking far too amused. "Well, it looks like your idiot brother Robb let loose Theon Greyjoy from his ranks. I don't have a clue what he was thinking. But Theon seemed to have. And you want to know what he did?"

Not trusting her voice, she nodded her head, trying to keep her face expressionless. He leaned forward and said, "He sacked Winterfell. And he killed them. He killed your stupid little brothers, Bran and Rickon."

She couldn't say anything. She was beyond stunned, unprepared for what she was told. She tried to process it faster, tried to understand what he'd said. Instead, she just kind of stared at him. She noticed her hands had begun to shake a bit and she asked herself, _Why are they doing that?_ Because they shouldn't have been, not at all. Joffrey was asking her a question, she could see his mouth move. But she couldn't hear a word. Was there something wrong with her hearing?

Sansa felt someone take her hand, drawing her attention to theirs. It was Sandor. He looked at her for just a moment, enough for her to be able to read exactly what his expression said, 'Stay strong'. She squeezed his hand once, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. Turning her attention back to the blond horror, she blanked her mind and croaked out to Joffrey, "I'm glad to hear that, Your Grace." She focused on the food in front of her, no longer hungry in the least. She poked at it with her fork, slid loose peas across her platter, but she didn't pick up another bite.

Joffrey tried to make the meal worse, mocking the Stark Family and trying to provoke Sansa. She found her ability to fight was gone. She simply nodded at what he said, recited the proper words, and tucked down her head. She felt sick, used and disgusting, like she'd betrayed her family. She kept her tongue in check, her mind blank, and focused on one spot on the table to distract her thoughts.

She had no clue how long time passed before Sandor was tugging her to her feet. She followed him numbly, not letting go of his hand as he led her out of the dining hall. She stumbled as he led her along and she heard him rasp, "Just another minute, Little Bird." She clutched onto his hand tighter, fighting off the sudden tears that began to fall. When he walked her into their chambers, she couldn't keep on her feet any longer. She collapsed to her knees, suddenly crying. She pressed her hand against her mouth, sobbing, fighting off the weight on her chest. It made it impossible to breath. She could feel Sandor's hand on her shoulder, could hear that he was saying something.

They shouldn't have died. Her brothers were innocent in the war. They were sweet and kind and gentle.

When she'd continued to cry on the floor, unable to respond to Sandor's words, he'd finally scooped her up from the ground. She clung to his tunic, burying her face into his chest. She didn't want to let go, even as he lay her in the bed. After some growling and grumbling (even though she could tell he didn't mean any of it), he climbed in beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him, as if he was the last of her family. She tried to remind herself that she still had her mother and Robb. They would rescue her… right?

She hated the foreboding feeling she got when she thought of Robb and Mother.

 **~A/N~**

 **So I try not to make so many inappropriate scenes, but I felt it was a necessary part of these chapters. Which I can imagine may be hard to believe. But it is for the future plot. I can't believe how many responses I've received for this story. I imagined this one would have been my least popular story, but this one has surpassed my other SanSan fic with reviews and far less chapters! Thank you for such inspiration!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

It was important that she picked herself up. She knew this. She told herself she had to try, but it was hard. Every day she was up, every time she thought, brought her to memories of Bran and Rickon. It nearly broke her heart every time they came to mind. She thought of what it was like with them, all that they had done as kids.

In her chambers, when Sandor wasn't around, she let herself cry. She didn't want to burden him after the first night he attempted to comfort her. He didn't exactly go out of his way to try to make her feel comforted, but he didn't dismiss her either that first few nights. He did, however, make sure she was eating. She tried to quit eating the first two days after receiving the news, but by dinner of the second day, he yelled at her and forced her to sit at the table until she ate every bite. Not only had she hated how she acted, but she fairly cringed when she thought about how childish she'd probably been. So, she tucked away all her thoughts of Bran and Rickon, only until it was dark at night and Sandor had most certainly passed out.

Out in court, in front of the Lannisters and their puppets, she was withdrawn and quiet. She just couldn't give herself enough energy to really pretend she was happy there. But she made sure to smile at Joffrey when he addressed her and chirped back what all he wanted to hear. While he seemed unhappy she was so withdrawn, he still made it a personal vendetta to make her miserable, even though he was unable to do much to her with Lady Margaery around.

The Tyrell Princess had taken it upon herself to be there for Sansa. She offered condolence to Lady Clegane. Margery tried to sympathize about the situation, as if putting herself in Sansa's shoes could make it easier to understand. Sansa didn't mind the Tyrell girl most times, but when she did try to sympathize with Sansa, the her hands tightened together and she had to fight the urge to snap at the future Queen. She wanted to tell Margaery it was nothing to put herself in someone else's shoes until after she'd lost a sibling. But she bit her tongue and realized it made it all the more prudent to try to act as normal as possible.

Now, Margaery seemed to want to have Sansa with her every day. Whether it was just for a midday meal, all day long, or even just an opinion on some texts, Sansa was bid away from her chambers. At first, it had annoyed her to no end, but eventually, Sansa told herself it was better than being left alone in her chambers with just her thoughts and handmaidens.

This day was no different, except Margaery asked Sansa to sup with her and Olenna Tyrell. That made her more nervous, concerned as she was about the Queen of Thorns. She knew that Lady Olenna had been trying to meet with Sansa since Margaery and Joffrey had been betrothed, but she'd managed to avoid her for some time. It helped Sansa could use the excuse that she and Sandor were newlywed and needed time to themselves. The excuse worked no longer because Margaery told her, "Oh, my grandmother told me the Hound was more than welcome to join us for the midday meal. Please do invite him."

She didn't want to do such thing. While she didn't mind supping with Sandor in front of the Lannisters and Lannister men or going to court when Joffrey asked it, she couldn't imagine sitting down and having a meal with the Queen of Thorns. She could just see how Lady Olenna could be offended by his harsh words and the way he still wouldn't eat his food properly. She had grown used to him using his hands to rip apart chickens (for some reason, that seemed to be the meat he preferred), shove bread, fruits, and vegetables into his mouth, and drowned down as much wine as he could at one time. She found she didn't mind it, but she did mind if he did such things in front of a highly respected House. She told herself that they would have to work on that once they were free of King's Landing.

Thankfully, Joffrey had Sandor training for the day, so she didn't need to make up some other excuse. She knew she was terrible at lying, so it was definitely a good excuse.

She told Sandor about the plans for the day while he was getting dressed for the morning. He'd stopped the moment she told him the Queen of Thorns would be there. He'd studied her for a good long while, finally asking, "Do you trust her?"

She didn't hesitate to answer, "I don't trust anyone here, but you."

"I wouldn't trust anyone, Little Bird," he warned her. "Not even an old dog like me."

She bristled at that almost immediately and said heatedly, "Are you saying you're going to betray me? That you'll kill me? Or report my actions to Joffrey?"

He snarled at her, glaring. "I ain't saying that girl," he spat. "I'm saying don't trust no one. You can't say anything around here without someone else finding out."

She huffed at him, standing up suddenly. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm not a stupid girl anymore. I know everyone around here is a spy. I also know you wouldn't dare turn me in to the monsters that forced you into this marriage! I understand the fact you don't love me, but the least you could do was let me talk to you!"

With that, she turned from the room and started out into the hall, tears in her eyes. But she didn't let herself think it over too much and found her way to Margaery's chambers instead. The Tyrell girl had taken one look at Sansa and asked her, "Would you like to walk before we sup with Grandmother?"

Knowing she couldn't say much, but feeling lost, Sansa agreed. Margaery had sent the girls in her chambers after Olenna Tyrell to let her know of the plans and then the two girls set out into the Gardens for a short stroll. They were only silent for a moment before Margaery asked, "Have you and the Hound been bickering?"

"Sandor," Sansa corrected almost immediately. She flushed a bit and mumbled her apologizes when she realized what she'd done. Margaery dismissed it with a laugh. Reluctantly and choosing her words carefully, she told her, "He never wanted to be married to me. He thinks I'm a stupid girl, who doesn't understand the workings of King's Landing. I had thought we'd come to a middle ground, but today he…" She sighed and fell silent, knowing she couldn't say much else.

"I understand," the brown hair girl said, smiling briefly. "It was difficult to be married to a man with no thought. Renly had been so focused on creating allies and winning the throne, he hardly gave me a second thought once we'd made our vows. He wouldn't make the time to consummate the marriage, nor to even really speak with me. I feel as if it was all political gain, with no thoughts of how I could possibly feel afterwards."

Sansa flushed and told her, "I'd quite forgotten you'd been married once before, milady. Forgive me."

She giggled and waved off her apology. "I forgot quite often myself. It's difficult when you're always sleeping by yourself and the man you want won't even touch you because he's so focused on other things." She thought about what Margery said. She did have Sandor at night. They slept in the same bed, they talked, supped together, and he most certainly wanted to take her at night.

"… I'm probably just overthinking it all," Sansa told her with a gentle smile. Deciding it was probably best to change the subject, she asked about Lady Olenna instead.

"Oh, she's wanted to get to know you! As you've been wedded off, she feels it's important to get to know the Clegane House, considering the family will now be allied with the North, from what I've understood?"

Honestly, she hadn't thought too much about it. She didn't want to worry about it until after Robb and Mother had come and saved them. She couldn't imagine that anything else would happen before then. She just wanted to keep her head low and not make Joffrey so mad he'd threaten to do something terrible. But she also knew she had to play the part Joffrey would expect out of her any time. So she told Margaery, "I can't be sure, but until the North bends knee to King Joffrey, I'm only allied with the Kingdom. I won't associate with traitors." She couldn't quite meet Margaery's eye after that.

The soon-to-be-Queen led Sansa to where Lady Olenna was waiting for them. There was a feast laid out of them, with their personal singer, Butterbumps if she remembered correctly, and a flock of girls fluttering about with Lady Olenna. She was a short lady, wrinkled and looking very much her age. At least, Sansa thought so until she saw the Lady's eyes. They were as young and vibrant as any other girl's. It made her swallow nervously, but she still curtseyed and chirped to Lady Olenna, "It's a great pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Olenna. Please pardon my absence, I've been quite busy since you all graciously helped us win the battle."

"Can't imagine marrying that brute of yours was much easier," she said, holding up her cup for a refill.

"Grandmother! You don't have to be so rude," Margaery scolded, casting Sansa an apologetic glance.

The Queen of Thorns harrumphed and told them both, "I haven't heard a thing about this man except what I've heard around the court. Calling that man a brute is not being rude, that's a kindness…" Sansa tensed, just barely keeping her tongue and glancing about them. Sansa was offered a variety of foods, between cheeses, fruits, and platters of intriguing pieces. The Queen of Thorns continued going on, glancing at Sansa, asking the redhead plenty of questions that made her squirm just a bit. Lady Olenna started out by asking about her marriage, why Joffrey had decided to marry her to Sandor Clegane rather than bargain her off to another House far more suitable.

Sansa tried to answer the questions as best as she could while also trying to keep Joffrey sounding as kind and intriguing as he acted around the Tyrells. But she noticed the looks Onella and Margaery shared several times and knew that eventually they would change the subject. She sat there, let them say what they wanted and waited.

It didn't take long before Lady Olenna asked, "So, tell me, what's it like to be in King's Landing? What is this King Joffrey like?"

She wasn't surprised in the least by the question and tried to repeat back the words she'd been so used to saying, "King Joffrey is a just king. He's good and kind and-"

"Oh, don't start that with me girl," Olenna interrupted, looking mildly annoyed. "You're terrible at lying. He forced you to marry the Hound of King's Landing. No good man would do that to a young girl as yourself. What is he really like?"

She fairly gnawed on her lips, eyes wide. She glanced around herself. She could hear Sandor telling her, _"You can't trust no one, Little Bird."_ Margaery seemed to see the look on her face, for she took Sansa's hand and squeezed it gently. Olenna barked at Butterbumps, "Sing louder boy." Once he was fairly shrieking his head off, the Queen of Thorns told Sansa, "You can tell us whatever you need. No one will hear a word while my jester screams his head off like that. Now, talk girl."

She glanced around herself, once, twice, hesitated, and just when Lady Olenna opened her mouth to snap again, Sansa blurted out, "He's a monster." Both Margaery and Olenna looked mildly surprised she'd even said anything. She flushed slightly, but continued on, "He's been nothing, but terrible to me since my family arrived to King's Landing. And once he had my father and his men butchered, his punishments just got worse. He paraded me in front of all the heads of Father, our Septa Mordane, and all of the men who'd come down with us to Winterfell. He's had me beaten, left me for dead in a riot, and has done everything in his power to make me as miserable as I possibly could. And then he just expects me to chirp back pretty words and smile at him so happily." Just talking about it brought tears to her eyes.

She noticed the look the two women shared and then Margaery told Sansa, "Thank you for telling us. We've just been trying to figure out what were truths and falsehoods."

"You aren't still planning on marrying him, are you?" Sansa noticed the look in Margaery's eyes. "You can't! He will do the same to you if he gets bored enough!"

"Grandmother and I will have to discuss it. Don't you worry yourself, Lady Sansa," Margaery smiled, patting her hand and offering Sansa a bowl of peaches. Reluctantly, the redhead took a peach out of the bowl and set it off to the side. She wanted to say more, but she also knew it wasn't her place to speak out to Margaery. She bit into the peach in her hand and nearly moaned because of the taste. She couldn't imagine the last time a peach tasted so good.

Margaery giggled, teasing, "Haven't you ever eaten a peach before?"

She hummed in response and, once she'd swallowed the sweet bite, she said, "I can't remember the last time I had one! And I don't think they were nearly as good." She took another bite eagerly and listened as Margaery and Lady Olenna turned the discussion to the upcoming wedding. Still, she worried and wondered just what all could happen with such a sweet lady as Margaery was…

 **~A/N~**

 **And so, the next part of the plan begins. I'm super psyched for this story right now, I never thought it would get so in depth, but all of these reviews and between writing two different GoT FF, I just have such inspiration for the story I couldn't imagine not going even further with this. And, as it turns out, the story is probably going to be past twelve chapters already half way through the eleventh chapter!**

 **Thank you for all the favs, follows, and reviews!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

By the time she finally got back to her chambers, it was nearing dinnertime. Sansa knew that she probably wouldn't be seeing Sandor until much later at night, when he was finally done training. Her immediate thought afterwards was whether she would have to dine alone without him in front of Joffrey. But, as she waited, she wasn't called upon for dinner, so she figured she was free to have some food brought to her chambers instead. Not that she was feeling up to eating much still, she was still feeling pretty full and a little nauseous after the large midday meal Lady Olenna supplied… Well, she could probably stomach a few more of those peaches.. Just thinking about them got her stomach growling and made her wonder if she would be able to persuade her handmaidens to bring her a few.

Reluctantly, she called upon Shae to draw her a bath instead, with lavender and vanilla oils to relax in. She had the foreign girl draw the water extra hot, so she could relax and clear her mind. She didn't dwell on what had happened with her family, with her brothers, and instead thought of what it was going to be like in the future with Sandor. She stayed in the water for some time, eyes closed and enjoying the warm water against her skin.

The water beginning to chill got her out of the washtub.

Shae was back by then, and offered a drying cloth for her. Sansa patted herself down while Shae got her a gown for the evening. Once she was dressed and sitting down in front of the looking glass, Shae began braiding her hair quietly, to Sansa's curiosity. Finally, she asked, "Is anything the matter, Shae?"

"No, nothing is the matter, milady," Shae said stiffly.

Sansa frowned and turned to look at the foreign handmaiden. "It sounds like there's something the matter."

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, milady. Would you like something for dinner?"

The thought of eating again so soon still made her stomach churn just a bit, but she forced herself to say, "Maybe just a bit. Can you try to get your hands on some of the peaches the Tyrell have? I had some today and they were completely delicious."

For a moment, Shae's hand stilled, but then the girl was braiding her hair and agreeing to see what she could find. She left Sansa alone after that, where the girl could settle down in her window seat and stare out at the waters. She was still a bit nervous about all that was going on. Joffrey had been docile, calmer than she could remember in a long time. Sandor and she seemed to be meeting on a common ground, even if they bickered almost daily. Sansa found she didn't mind the bickering. Sure, it stressed her out, but in the end, she knew that they were there for each other. But life finally seemed like it was calm enough now.

By the time Shae returned, her other handmaidens had shown up as well. They fussed about her, made sure her table was set well, and had everything laid out to perfection when Shae brought it through. They settled Sansa in at the table, kept her company as she ate and chatted with them. She fairly moaned in pleasure again when she ate the peaches. Never had she tasted any fruit that was as good as the peaches she was eating now. She ate every peach that they brought for her by bedtime and then she lay, half sprawled, in the window seat basked in the setting sunlight. It made her feel warm and content and she ended up dozing in the window far easier than she originally thought she could.

For some time, she was able to doze in the windowsill, content and warm. She was woken up from her nap just as she was being lifted out of the window seat. She blinked her eyes a few times in the dark room, noticing instantly that it was the Hound who had picked her up and started taking her back to their bed. She mumbled thanks, smiling sleepily at him as she tucked her head up against his chest. "Gonna get you laid out in the bed, Little Bird," he rasped quietly. His face was indistinguishable in the dark, but Sansa imagined he was looking at her as if she were his wife.

The bed was like a cloud of fluff as she was settled under the covers. She snuggled up under the covers, but when Sandor clambered in on the other side, she turned over and moved closer to him. Although he grumbled a bit, she noticed he never pushed her away anymore. She was able to close her eyes and fall into a sort of half sleep, one where she was almost unconscious, but she was still able to hear what was going on around her.

It was the first night she heard Sandor start to mumble in his sleep. It woke her up at first, because he'd raised his voice a bit. When she sat up and looked at him, studying as best as she could in the dark, she didn't see anything that concerned her. So, she settled back down and closed her eyes as she snuggled up to Sandor's large shoulder.

For a few moments, she thought she would have the peace and quiet she needed to fall asleep. But then, he began to mumble, louder and louder, until he was fairly shouting. He began to jerk in his sleep, muttering, "Stay away!" and "Not the fire. Anything but the fire..." Immediately, she knew exactly what he was dreaming about. The story Petyr Baelish told her came to mind and she sat up, quick to light a candle by her bedside. When she turned back to the Hound, it was noticeable immediately that he'd broken out into a sweat.

She reached over and touched his face, startling the man awake in an instant. He sat up, grabbed hold of her hand hard, snarling. She whimpered, tried to pull her hand away, and told him, "Sandor it was just a dream." In an instant, he'd let go of her. They'd stared at each other for several moments, as if starting a dance for this new information. But then, the Hound muttered an apology and had started to scoot off to the side. Sansa recognized the signs of fleeing the moment he'd started sliding away and took hold of his arm. "Don't go," she whispered. When he stopped moving, she sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting his head to her shoulder. "It's okay, Sandor. I'm here for you." She was a bit startled when he wrapped an arm around her waist, but then he lifted his head and looked at her. She could see the fear in his eyes, but she didn't acknowledge it, she just lowered her head and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

When she pulled away, he said hoarsely, "I want you," and tugged her in for another hungry kiss.

While he lowered her onto the bed, already tugging the slip over her head, she whispered, "Yes." His hand found its way between her legs and almost immediately slid two fingers into her, knowing she reacted best when she was stretched more than she was used to. He started kissing her fiercely as he worked her up, moving his fingers in and out of her, his thumb on her nub, rubbing in time with his ministrations. Just as she began to peak, he moved his hand and slid himself into her waiting depths, wet and tight and pulsing around his hard shaft. She came almost immediately, moaning his name.

He began to drive into her, hard and fast. Her legs wound around his waist almost immediately, so sensitive after finishing that it was hard for her to meet his thrusts until she'd settled down a bit. He didn't seem to mind, he leaned over and captured her lips in another bruising kiss, his hips still working. She mewled with pleasure, her eyes closed. She gripped onto his arms, working her hips to try to keep up with his pace. His mouth found her neck, nipping and sucking, until he found that spot that made her squeak in pleasure. He worked on that spot, settled himself so he was rested on one arm, and used his free hand to play with her nub again.

She finished a second time not long after, exhausted, but trying to keep up until Sandor had come too. He drove into her as hard as possible, no longer focused on working her up. Just as he began to finish, he nipped down on her neck, rougher than before as he began to pulse inside of her.

He pulled out shortly after, spent. Still, he tugged her so she was settled against his chest. She waited several moments, then asked quietly, "Can I tell you something?"

"What is it, Little Bird?"

"… I know what you dream of." When she felt him tense and his teeth worked together, she quickly added, "Please, don't snap. Someone had told me around here what had happened, with your brother-"

"Don't talk about him," he growled almost immediately. He sat up immediately, taking hold of Sansa and asking roughly, "Who the fuck told you about it?"

"I-I-" She doubted that he'd believe her if she tried lying, so almost reluctant, she admitted, "It was Lord Baelish-" He snarled, shoving her away and getting out of bed. She watched as he struggled to find his breeches and finally asked, "Where are you going?"

"Going to teach that fucker what happens when he-"

"Sandor, just wait!" She got out of bed, conscious of the fact she was bare, and tried stepping in front of him. He ignored her, finished lacing up his breeches and moved around her. He easily shook her off when she tried to step in and stalked out of their room without another word to her.

She stood there, her arms wrapped around herself, unsure just what news she might hear after.

#

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It wasn't often that he was down where Petyr Baelish usually slept, but as a previous member of the Kingsguard, he'd been privileged with the information of everyone's sleeping quarters. Nothing would stop him from beating the shit out of the man who'd opened his dumb cunt mouth. He was seeing red. It didn't help to calm the Hound down in the least that his wife, of all people, knew of his fiery past.

It shouldn't have surprised him at all that people around Kings Landing knew of his past. Old tales, any tales always uprooted themselves in this damnable city. But this had been the first he'd ever heard of someone speaking of it aloud. He'd be fucked bloody if he ever let someone else say another word. The prissy bird cunt could be the example for the rest of the court to see.

No one stood outside his chamber doors, so the Hound found it easy to kick open the door and walk right in. Bare-chested and unarmed, the Hound was still a formidable man to see, with his scars and bulky muscle. So, to be woken up in the dead of night to see a man as large as the Hound, would clearly scare anyone. This was exactly what Sandor wanted to see as he grabbed hold of Petyr Baelish and dragged him from the bed, the man struggling in his grasp.

He lifted the scrawny man in the air with one hand, scowling deeply at the man who'd gone from struggling to staring at the man, wide-eyed. "C-Clegane? What are you doing here, in the middle of the night?"

He snarled at him, giving him a good shake and demanding, "The fuck do you think you're telling my wife about?" When he'd continued to look at the Hound with wide eyes, Sandor continued, "Don't know how the fuck you heard about the Mountain and I, but I will fucking kill you if you open your stupid bird mouth again, to her and any other fucker in this damnable city."

He was breathing hard, staring into the white face of Littlefinger. The man, who usually smirked and walked around as if he was untouchable, no longer had that confidence about him. However, the look on his face shifted, until he was actually looking at the Hound with that smug expression. "You might think whatever you say is terrifying. But you remember, we have your wife hostage here. You're married to her, but we can do anything we want to her. Imagine if Joffrey gets wind of your wife being pregnant. Because, it will happen. Maybe not now, but in the future, I can only imagine what fun the boy King would have with the bastard kid like yours." The grip he had on Littefinger tightened, but he waited as Littlefinger added, "Think about that, the next time you want to wake someone up from their sleep. Now, put me down."

His hand tightened into a fist, but he put Petyr Baelish down on his feet. He waited until the smaller man was smirking up at him before he punched him in the face, hard. Just as the man keeled over, holding his face, Sandor grabbed hold of him and kneed him right in his gut. He went at the man, punching and wailing on the poor man until he was a bloody mess on the floor. Then he crouched down beside him and growled, "You say another word again I'll beat you bloody. Threaten my wife or anyone she would care about, I'll fucking kill you." He grabbed hold of his hair, smashed his head against the floor and stalked out of the room without another glance back.

#

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She waited for over an hour. She'd been quick to wrap a robe around herself so she was a bit more presentable and then she began to pace. She glanced at the door occasionally, gnawing on her bottom lip the longer Sandor was gone. She wondered where Sandor had gone and what he was doing. She was anxious and worried and hoped he wasn't doing something reckless. Her urge to sleep was gone completely.

When her door finally opened, she turned around and froze. It was Sandor. He looked unharmed for the most part, except he was covered in blood. From his hands to his upper arms and across his chest, there was blood everywhere. "What happened?" she asked immediately, already hurrying over to their washbin for a cloth and some water.

"Don't worry yourself about it, Little Bird," he muttered, going to sit over on the bed.

"Don't you dare sit on the bed like that," she warned, walking over and beckoning him to a chair instead. Grumbling, he did as he was bid and settled in the seat in front of her. She set the bowl of water on the table, dipped in the white cloth, and began to wipe away the blood from his left arm. Eventually, she asked, "Did you kill him?"

He was silent for several long moments before growling, "No." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Left him good and bloody on the floor."

"You shouldn't have done that, Sandor," she said quietly, finishing up his one arm, rinsing out the cloth, and starting on the other. They could retaliate, hurt you somehow-"

He took hold of her, ignoring the fact she protested because he was still covered in blood. "Look at me girl," he told her, so that she had her eyes trained on his. "You don't say a word to no one about anything. If there's something, anything at all, you only come to me. They might not be able to hurt me, but they will hurt you, to get back at both of us. Just remember that."

He waited until she vocally agreed to pull her close and press a kiss against her hair. She almost couldn't tell that he was so tense he was shaking, but she decided not to say a word.

#

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It was late at night, just after Shae finished her usual rounds with Sansa. She always came to Tyrion at this time, where they both knew he would be free for at least several hours. But instead of gracing his bed with her presence, Tyrion Lannister was left with another sight altogether. The foreign girl, beautiful as she was, was pacing up and down the chambers. She looked frustrated, angry, and mildly concerned. He watched her walk up and down several minutes before he finally asked the girl, "What is the matter Shae?" just as she huffed and started another lap in his chambers. "You keep this up and I'll have a hole in that floor soon."

She paused long enough to glare at him and snapped, "Don't pretend you haven't a clue what is going on here. That cunt King-"

"Please, be careful what you're saying around here," he interrupted almost immediately, wincing as he started to sit up.

She repeated herself, louder than before, " _That CUNT King_ married off sweet Sansa to that brute! It's not okay. He takes her as he pleases, uses her for his own game. She's looking thin and now she's letting him get away with how he talks and eats. It's not all right! That cunt should never have married her off."

Tryion had to agree. Marrying off a Stark, one of the last few for the Northern home, to a lesser house, much less to a man with no claim to the Clegane household had been a terrible idea! He'd yet to leave his chambers to congratulate Sansa Stark. He wanted to see how she was doing more than anything, whether she was bruised or drained and how upset she was over the marriage. Instead, all he had was his connection with Shae, so he asked her, "What does she say to this?"

Shae glared at him. "What do you think she say? She thinks it's her duty to make him pleased. She told me she fairly begged him to take her because she feels it's the only way she'll be safe."

Tyrion had to admit, it wasn't the worst plan ever. It was obvious the Hound had a soft spot for his wife, even if he was a bit vocal and harsh at times. "That's not the worst plan around here," he said gently.

She threw up her hands. "You sound just like her! But it's not okay. He's not a good man. She should have been married to someone better."

Still, Tyrion understood there was something else going on here. So he beckoned her over and waited until she reluctantly crawled into bed with him to ask, "So, what is it that has you truly bothered?"

She was silent for some time, her breasts pressed against his arm as she lay with him. Finally, she whispered, "I have yet to see signs of her moonblood since the wedding. And what will happen if the cunt King finds out she's carrying a child?"

Indeed, what would Joffrey Lannister do to poor Sansa Clegane if he found out she carried the Clegane pup in her belly? Tyrion could only imagine the gruesome punishments he'd do to her. From cutting the child from her belly prematurely to butchering the newborn in front of her flashed before his eyes. He doubted Sandor Clegane would be docile in this situation, but things could be far worse for the couple if Shae's suspicions were true…

Reluctantly, and hating himself just a bit, he shrugged the girl off of him and told her, "Get me Varys. We need to think about this."

Without hesitating, the girl turned and walked out of the room, hopefully after the man Tyrion really needed to see in this moment.

 **~A/N~**

 **And the next plot begins... mwahaha I'm finding I love this fic more and more, the longer I write on it. Chapter eleven is being a bit slower coming out, the beginning of the chapter just doesn't want to come out right at all... But hopefully it'll be done in just a few mere days! Thank you again for all of the reviews it's extremely inspiring!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The weeks that followed were the most eventful Sansa could have imagined and by far the most tiring. Margery Tyrell was busy putting together the largest wedding Sansa had heard of in some time. The Tyrell Princess called upon Sansa for help and guidance, tried to persuade the girl out of her room more and more. Sansa didn't mind at first, but within two weeks, she was getting a bit cranky. She was exhausted from bustling about between Margery and Sandor and trying to placate King Joffrey whenever the boy King called upon her presence.

The worst part was she had been so stressed out lately she noticed some nausea whenever she woke up and when she knew Joffrey would want to call upon her for meals. She was short-tempered with Sandor when he was around her, fatigued by the end of the day, and occasionally revolted by the sight of the meals brought before them. None of the handmaidens seemed too perplexed by these changes, even as she began to gain a bit of weight despite the fact she wasn't eating nearly as much. When she made comment about it, one of the girls told her it was simply because she was so stressed out being newly wedded still. It had been almost twelve weeks! Surely, there was no reason for her to be stressed out still.

By the third week into planning the wedding, Sansa refused to allow her handmaidens to touch her beside Shae. The rest of the girls had been lacing her up so tightly she'd started getting sore around her chest. "Just, just leave it be," she managed out, frustrated, but still trying her best to sound polite. She stared at the plain gown with distaste, unsure as to why Shae had picked such a strange gown. She continued, trying to sound polite, "Why don't you just fetch breakfast instead? King Joffrey has been too busy to have a traitor interrupt his meals. And Shae is more than capable to help me herself." Why did they insist on having four handmaidens help her get ready in the morning anyhow?

"Should we bring you anything special milady?" one of the girls murmured, stepping away from her almost reluctant.

"Maybe just a lemon cake and some peaches? Surprise me with everything else." Reluctant, but obedient, the girls bowed and stepped out, leaving Shae and Sansa alone. The foreign girl stepped forward and gently tugged the ties together until she was just settled enough that she looked proper. Sansa noticed she was unusually quiet and had the same thoughtful expression on her face she'd had lately.

"How have you felt lately?" she asked eventually, finishing the last tie for her dress. Sansa turned and gave her an odd look.

"Why do you ask?"

"I've just noticed you have been a bit strange. I worry for you, milady."

Sansa opened her mouth to answer her, but a knock to the door interrupted them. Shae hesitated a moment, staring at Sansa and then turned towards the door. She answered it, asking and sounding annoyed, "What do you need here?"

Sansa giggled softly, so used to her rude behavior that it made her laugh whenever someone else had to see it too. She was startled to hear, "And a good morning to you too, Shae. By any chance is Lady Sansa in this morning?"

Shae stepped to the side without answering, a scowl on her face, as Tyrion Lannister hobbled inside. Sansa tried not to look anything other than pleasant to see him, but she was afraid a bit of her pity would spread across her face. It was terrible, to think a man such as himself had lost even more during the battle of Blackwater bay. She'd heard what had happened, where he'd nearly been cut in half, but she'd yet to see his face until this moment. She curtseyed as best as she could and said, "I'm very grateful you would think to see me this morning, milord. I apologize for any disrespect I might cause; I'm still preparing myself for the day."

He gave her a smile, somewhere between pity and respect and waved off her apology. "Not to worry, my dear. I'm the one who's been intruding this morning, but I felt it was necessary. I have yet to give you my congratulations on your marriage."

"Oh, thank you, milord," she said, bowing slightly and giving him a gentle smile. He was the least one she worried about in King's Landing, even though he was still a Lannister. He'd stood up for her, fought against Joffrey's word, and tried to give her the moments to grieve her family. She appreciated it, although she knew it would be stupid of her to trust him anymore than the rest of his family.

Before they could say more, Sansa's handmaidens had returned. They all paused as soon as they saw Tyrion, but then they each curtseyed, brought the food to the table and started to make themselves busy. Sansa hesitated, then told the three, "I shouldn't need any other assistance this morning, please go find something else to do." She wasn't comfortable enough to discuss any topics with Tyrion while her handmaidens were about.

The girls were reluctant again, hesitating to leave, but a quick glance from Sansa sent them off into the hall. Tyrion called back Shae before the foreign girl could disappear and after a moment, she closed the door to the hall. Then they were alone. After an awkward moment, Sansa offered, "Would you like something to eat this morning?" Her handmaidens had certainly brought enough food for two people easily. They'd started doing that shortly after noticing the Hound ate far more than their Lady they'd been serving.

"I wouldn't mind a bite," he said after a moment, waddling over to take a seat at the table. Sansa sat across from him and offered Shae a spot as well, though she declined and instead fussed about with Sansa's hair while she ate.

They were silent for some time, quietly chewing without saying much. Eventually, Sansa swallowed her food and asked, "If you don't mind, I was just wondering why you decided to stop so early this morning milord?"

He swallowed his own food, smiled at her gently and told her, "I just wanted to see how you were fairing, being married to…"

"To Sandor? Oh, it's been just fine. He's gentle enough with me and doesn't speak to me too harshly." She tried smiling brightly, but she just had a feeling there was more to the meeting than what he was telling her.

"How have you been feeling? I know I've been hearing some concerns about your wellbeing…"

"Oh, everything has just been grand. I wouldn't worry about me at all, milord." Was her voice too high? Or did she sound too cheerful?

"Have you been feeling off? A bit sick or with too much energy?"

Her brow furrowed together, but she shrugged and told him, "I've been a bit stressed out, so I've been feeling a little off. But I've been eating plenty enough for myself, if not more." Sansa hesitated, then inquired, "Might I ask why you're questioning me on all of this?"

"… I've just been hearing some very interesting news around here, milady."

Sansa stilled immediately and asked, "What have you been hearing?"

Tyrion tilted his head to the side and gave her a wan smile. "There's nothing to concern yourself with my dear. But there have been some whispers that have been brought to my attention. More specifically about your moonblood."

"W-what about it?" she stammered, losing all sense of strength. Why were they questioning her bodily functions? Since when was it anyone's business?

"Do you mind if I'm asking you these questions? I certainly don't wish to make you uncomfortable, I just thought I could get a better grasp on the situation, so no one else would feel the need to come here and bother you more. I've heard you've been very busy between Lady Margaery, your husband, and King Joffrey."

Could she even deny him this information without being offensive? She shifted in her seat and kept her eyes fixed on her plate as she told him, "It is all fine, milord. You may ask whatever you may seem fit." She could feel herself beginning to blush, mildly embarrassed to be discussing this with someone other than a woman.

"When was the last time you had your moonblood?"

"Oh, well…" Her brows furrowed and she thought about it for a moment. Eventually, she told him, "It had just finished just after the battle at Blackwater Bay. I believe it was just before my wedding, milord."

"Have you felt any discomfort like before? Or bloating?" She thought again and shook her head when she couldn't think of a situation. "Have you felt any nausea? Or an increase in your appetite?"

"I have been a bit nauseous, but my handmaidens have assured me it is simply because I've been so worn thin with my marriage and all the planning for this upcoming wedding." She didn't add the fact Joffrey had her so stressed out she could hardly focus at times.

"How about any cravings to foods?" Immediately, Sansa's eyes focused on the peach in her hand. She almost didn't mention the fact she'd basically developed an obsession with eating peaches. But nothing had seemed quite so good or juicy in some time. Reluctant, she nodded and told him about the fruit and her increase for lemon cakes. "But mother had always told me it wasn't unusual when someone has been a bit stressed."

Shae tugged on her hair a bit harsher than necessary. Sansa flinched and told her, "Be gentle, please."

"My apologies," she muttered, sounding far from sorry.

Sansa almost huffed, but focused her attention on Tyrion, who seemed to be very unfocused at the moment. Reluctantly, she asked gently, "Milord?"

Immediately, his mismatched eyes focused back on her and he gave her another wan smile. "Would you mind coming with me today, Lady Sansa? I have someone I would like you to meet."

Sansa tensed and tried out, "I'm not sure if Lady Margaery will be calling for me today-"

"It won't be for too long. And I'm sure Shae would very much like to accompany you on this trip. I promise nothing will happen to you."

She almost told him about what had happened the last time someone had promised her something. Instead, she swallowed, and looked to Shae. Reluctantly, the foreign girl nodded and told her, "Go with him. It's probably for the best."

She swallowed again and reluctantly nodded to Tyrion. "Would you like to go now?"

"That would probably be best," he told her gently, managing out of the dining chair and walking towards her. "I just feel this will all give us the answers to the questions I've been hearing."

Sansa stood. She scribbled down a quick note to Sandor, in case he managed to come back to their chambers early, and reluctantly followed Tyrion and Shae out to the hall. They were silent as they walked, though Sansa noticed pretty quickly that Tyrion tried to avoid any of the halls that the Kingsguard might be strolling through. Was he even allowed to take her wherever she was going?

Soon enough, he had her duck into a room. First he handed her a cloak, a plain cloth with very little color aside from the grey. Reluctantly, she threw the cloak around her shoulders and tied off the strings. She watched Tyrion quietly while he moved aside a massive painting to expose a hidden hallway. "After you, milady," he said, bowing low. Reluctantly, she ducked her head and stepped inside the passage. There was very little she could see in the darkness, but she could tell the stairs spiraled down, further and further into what seemed like a very damp place. A light flickered from behind her. She turned and noticed the torch Tyrion had in his hand. She moved out of the main entrance enough where he could move up in front of her. Behind her, she felt Shae's presence and reached for her hand instinctively. She felt a squeeze of reassurance and slowly followed down the winding stairway.

Sansa didn't dare look behind her at the darkness that engulfed the trio as they moved. She tried to focus just on the flame in front of her, but her eyes wandered to the walls around them. She noticed small doorways as they passed, just as dark and almost more forbidding than the hall they were in now. Eventually, she asked quietly, "How did you find this place?"

"An acquaintance of mine happened to show me this direct passage out of the city. He thought it be best to lead you out this way rather than directly out the front door."

"W-we're going out into the city?" she stammered, eyes widening.

"No, not directly, milady. This passage- we're going to turn here, please watch your head- this passage leads us into a household that I wished to have you come to. There's something that you should have checked out." This time, the passage was shorter, almost to the point she had to crouch a bit, but it was even footing. Faintly, Sansa thought she could hear the rush of water below, but the sound quickly faded away and they fell into complete silence once more.

Every once in a while, Tyrion pulled out a map from his tunic, squinting in the light so he could see what looked to be a badly scrawled map. He turned them down several corridors, to the point Sansa lost track which way they'd come and gone before. The heights and space of each corridor changed. Sometimes it winded, others it was hilly or flat and occasionally, Sansa found they were walking across earth packed ground. She tried not to ask too many questions while he studied his map and led them this way and that way. Shae never seemed to worry while they followed Tyrion, so Sansa trusted the stunted man to lead them the right way.

She ignored the voice whispering in her head about Sandor's warnings to trust no one.

Soon enough, Sansa could hear the sounds of people through the walls. It was muffled, hardly hearable, but she could tell they were there. Then Tyrion slowed to a stop and paused at what looked to be an old worn door. He raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles, twice fast, paused and two more slow raps.

They waited.

For several long moments, they stood there in the dark, mildly chilled. Then the door unlatched and swung open. Tyrion settled the torch in a holder just before the door and waddled in through the door way. Sansa was greeted by the sight of a much worn down cottage. They stepped inside and Sansa was greeted by quite the sight in front of her. The room was large, but based on what she could actually walk through it looked tiny. The ceiling looked as if it were collapsing, bowed low and with a few holes that light peeked in through. The walls looked weak, a bit moldy, and discolored and the floors were covered with random objects, from jewels and foods and pots and wood. A quick glance to Tyrion told Sansa he was just as taken back by the state of the room. "Oh, don't look at it like that, my dearies! My home is more than pleasant." They all spun around immediately to notice an old lady in front of them. She looked as if she were at least a hundred, layered in wrinkles upon wrinkles and hunched so far over she was nearly bending at the middle. Sansa gave her a hesitant smile, trying not to think too much about where she was at.

When Sansa glanced at Tyrion, she noticed he was gave the old woman a hesitant grin and told her, "Jaynie, I'm guessing he told you we were coming?"

"Yes, yes, now let me see the gal." Sansa wanted to cringe away the moment this woman 'Jaynie' grab hold of her wrist and tugged her towards a back room. "Come now gal, don't have all day. Many a gals like ya need me attendin' to 'em," she said, waddling towards the room and tugging Sansa along. She glanced back at her two temporary companions, who were quick to follow along. The room she was tugged into was the complete opposite of Jaynie's main living quarters. This room was spotless, with a single mattress wrapped with a clean white sheet. "Sit on tha bed," the lady said, voice creaking as she shuffled over to a washbin.

Sansa stood frozen on the spot, looked between this Jaynie and Tyrion and finally demanded, "I need to know what is going on. I don't have a clue as to why I'm here and I feel as if I'm being led to the slaughter!"

Jaynie clucked, shaking her head and turning towards her. "Don't start with me gal. I just have one job to do and that's to check ya. Sit."

"Lady Sansa, I promise you, as soon as she tells us what she finds, we will inform you of what is going on," Tyrion promised, waddling over to her. "Please, do as she bid you."

Reluctant, but keeping her head raised, Sansa walked over to the bed and settled on the edge. Jaynie shuffled over to her and grabbed hold of her chin without warning. Trying not to flinch at the sudden movement, Sansa kept her eyes trained straight ahead as the old woman moved her head side to side and examined her closely. She startled Sansa by suddenly grabbing hold of her at the chest and giving a good squeeze. She squeaked in surprise and mild pain and pulled away. "Hold still," Jaynie scolded and began to squeeze on her arms and waist. Then she used her hands and gently started pressing around, feeling her belly all the way towards her lower abdomen. For several moments, Jaynie focused on a certain spot and then she made a very pleased noise and said, "There is it!"

At those words, Sansa noticed Shae had paled considerably and Tyrion looked less than pleased by the news. "Are you positive?" he demanded, looking over at Sansa as if he was going to feel for whatever it was Jaynie was talking about.

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, so very confused at the moment.

Jaynie looked more than pleased with herself and fairly snapped, "Imp man, you ain't gonna question what I say neither. I been doing this job years afor you were born!"

"Are you absolutely positive of what you found? I need to know, before we start having to plan," Tyrion said urgently.

"I is as positive as anyone can be at this moment. Could be anywhere 'round ten ta twelve weeks. Watch her closely, wait for signs of the moonblood if you doubt me so." The lady sniffed and patted Sansa's knee. "Ya go and keep safe these next few months. Come see me 'gain, if you in need anythin'. Now, go, all ya."

Jaynie fairly shoved them back through the door which they came. Everyone was utterly silent, although Sansa had no clue why either of them had brought her to such a strange woman or why the news seemed so ghastly. The trip back was eerie and a bit unnerving. All Sansa wanted to do was stop and ask what was going on. Still, a glance at Shae's face or Tyrion's hunched shoulders and she bit her tongue for a bit longer. The trip seemed to take twice as long going back and Tyrion seemed to be getting lost more often than before. Still they eventually they managed their way back to the winding staircase and found the entrance back to the palace.

"Let's get back to your chambers, Lady Sansa," Tyrion said quietly, snuffing out the torch and starting out of the room without another word. Shae followed after him, her spine stiff and a bit of worry in her eyes. Again, the halls were unusually empty, the usual bustle very absent. As they passed an open window, Sansa noticed it had started to rain, a light drizzle at first, but the dark clouds promised a very bad storm. She couldn't remember the last time it had rained in King's Landing, so the promise of heavy storms was a bit exciting.

As soon as she managed through her chamber door and had closed the heavy wood, she turned and asked, "Now, why had you taken me to that strange woman? What did she mean about my moonblood?"

"Please, have a seat, Lady Sansa. I will explain all of it to you soon enough." Reluctantly, Sansa did as Tyrion told her and waited patiently. Shae had gone over to the closet and fished out a new dress, with much more flow and less ties. For some reason, the foreign girl was refusing to meet her eye. "Do you know who Jaynie was?" he asked her finally, settling down in his own seat. Sansa shook her head. "She used to be a healer, further up in the South. She was well known for her ability to be able to feel out any diseases or any other conditions one might be faced. She has almost always been spot on and when she was chased out of her village for witchery, a man here pulled some strings, called some birds, and brought her here in case he ever had use for her."

"But, then why did you bring me to her?"

"There's been some rumors, one of the handmaidens of yours or someone else spreading rumors of the lack of moonblood. Cersei has been curious and several others as well. Shae came to me finally, worried about what might happen if Joffrey decided he was going to listen to some of these rumors."

"What does my moonblood have to do with any of this?" she asked, fiddling with the cloak in her hands.

He gave her a hesitant smile and told her, "Well, Lady Sansa, she was able to successfully guarantee us that you are, in fact, pregnant."

 **~A/N~**

 **So, I'm not sure how I liked this chapter, but I knew this was one that needed to get out. Of course, who couldn't expect this to happen? It isn't much of a shocker, but I'm really looking forward to the next several chapters after this. Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter as well and that it wasn't too strange! Thank you soooo much for all of the reviews!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Pregnant.

The word didn't seem to reach her at first. Sansa Clegane stared at Tyrion Lannister, looked to Shae, who seemed both furious and concerned, and back to the Imp in front of her.

Pregnant.

Was that even possible?

But then she thought about it. How she and Sandor had fairly been copulating almost every night and many mornings after Sandor's initial shock. Thought about her lack of moonblood. Her unusual impatience and mood swings. The way she couldn't stomach some foods and how she was nauseous at times. Was this all connected simply to a small part of life growing inside of her? She felt sick almost thinking about it. What would Joffrey…?

She didn't finish that thought; she only rushed to the washbin and heaved into it. Shae bustled over to her, murmuring some words, tugging back her braid, and offering some water for her to rinse her mouth. Sansa took the water offered, tears almost brimming in her eyes. What was she to do? She was still in the middle of the lion's den, with only Sandor as her protection and now Tyrion… Tyrion…

She turned back to the Imp, who was watching her with a look of discomfort. "Why did you want to know this? Why would you tell me?" she demanded, fairly stalking up to him and looking down at the shorter man. Her mind was reeling. How had she not even thought about this before? She'd been sleeping with Sandor since their wedding night, of course it was a possibility! Why didn't she think to prevent something this disastrous until after they'd escaped?

"Lady Sansa, we are not looking to use you or to rat you out to Joffrey. It's quite the opposite in fact." He smiled at her, as if that would make everything okay. "I'm working with someone. We are going to find a way to get you out of this city, away from the hands of Joffrey. You and the Hound both."

"Could she… I mean, is it possible that Jaynie is wrong?" she asked, almost hoping so.

All she could think was, _Joffrey. Joffrey. Joffrey. Joffrey… What would Joffrey do if he found out?_

Her mind kept imaging all the different things the boy King could do. And she still hadn't heard about the worst of his punishments, just what he thought would be best for her to hear. Tyrion seemed to be able to read her thoughts, for he gave her a pitying look and told her, "Unfortunately, it is very rare that she is wrong."

Sansa just wanted to sit down and cry. Instead, she looked at him with a lost expression and eventually asked quietly, "What am I supposed to do now?"

#

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Varys was a man who prided himself on the fact he never intervened. He sat back, played with his webs and watched as all the plots worked themselves out, one way or the other. He never stepped in on anyone's behalf for any reason. Most people never even tried coming to him because they knew he was his own Spider. That, and Eunuches seemed to have an uncomfortable effect on the other population.

When Tyrion Lannister beckoned for him and asked him about Lady Sansa, for once Varys was at a loss. No one ever called upon a spider to help out a poor girl trapped in lion's den.

He was hesitant. Yes, he felt for the poor Clegane girl. No girl deserved the punishment that Joffrey put her to. Still, he knew what he did, he certainly didn't step in for anyone or for any reason. He just listened and watched and made sure he wouldn't be in any danger. Yet, Tyrion called out for help, offered what he could do for Varys and played with the Spider's small pitying side to the poor redheaded girl he saw nearly shake in fear with every step she took.

He couldn't risk his place in King's Landing, where he knew he could keep himself safe. So, he decided to play a card he hadn't thought he'd have to duel out so soon. He went to the woman he knew was planning something very intriguing, at least from what he'd heard of from the Spiders that had come to him.

He went to her the same day he finally made up his mind.

As expected, there were several men outside of Lady Olenna's chambers. Varys wandered up to them and asked, "Is Lady Olenna available?" and, tucking his hands into his sleeves, stared at the men in his way. To be an Eunuch and to stare at a man such as Varys did always made the Knights and other men extremely uncomfortable.

One of the men fumbled around for words and finally ducked into the Queen of Thorns' room. Varys waited patiently, studying the men in front of him. He knew about each of these men, their secrets, their weaknesses.

Finally, that same man returned, looking a bit flushed and groused, but he beckoned Varys through without another word. He bowed his head slightly and made his way into the guarded room. The door closed behind him, but he was focused on the woman in front of him, aged, but still looking far younger in her eyes as she scowled at the man in front of her. "My men tell me you had to see me today, Spider," she snapped.

He gave her a small smile and told her, "It's always a pleasure to be in your presence, my Queen of Thorns. May I have a seat?"

"Oh, why not," she grumbled, waving at the chair opposite of herself. She watched him as he settled down in the seat and studied him for quite a while silently. He waited patiently for her to speak again. She finally asked, "What did you need from me now?"

He smiled at her and told her in his sweetest voice, "I've been hearing whispers my dear. I want to be frank with you, because I have a lot that needs to be done in a very short period of time. These whispers speak of dark times in the near future, surrounding your sweet Lady Margaery and our King Joffrey." He could see she understood what he was saying immediately; a guarded look immediately spread across her face and she stared at him with deep suspicion. He continued before she could say anything, "I am not threatening to step across your territory. You do as you want, I simply have a requirement in which will help aid your plans."

"And what might that be?" she asked, still staring at him with distrustful eyes.

"Sansa and Sandor Clegane."

When she gave him a disbelieving look and a hard glare, he told her, "You need someone to carry in the object that'll help your granddaughter reach the throne without getting your own House dirtied. I'm sure you've come up with a plan, but I am offering you a better one, which will help immensely and put your House out of any possible blame."

She stared at him again for a long time, working her mouth and watching his every expression. His never wavered as he stared back at her. Eventually, she groused out, "What is this plan of yours?"

Varys gave her a wan smile and began to explain. He always won them over, in one end or the other.

#

#

Sansa sat on her bed, alone. It was nearing dinnertime, but she found her appetite had gone away completely and she didn't have the energy to do much else. Her hands were at her belly, unable to stop touching her stomach. Could see feel a difference, like Jaynie had? Sure, she was a little bit bigger. But was that just because she'd eaten so much extra food? Or was it because of the pre…? She couldn't finish the word, almost cringed at the thought. She cradled her belly almost carefully, lying out on the bed propped up by the pillows. She was almost completely bare, wanting to observe herself truly for the first time.

Not much looked different about herself. But she could see that her breasts had grown at least a full size, looking larger than before she'd been married. And her belly did stick out just a bit in her low abdomen, but it was not noticeable unless she really looked. She wondered what she would look like in a few months, rounder and definitely…

She stroked her belly again and rested her head against the feather pillows with a sigh. She knew she needed to tell Sandor, that it was only fair that she told him right away. But she hesitated. Because she didn't know what it was he was expecting out of this marriage. Did he even want children? Or would he reject this idea like he had their marriage to begin with? She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle that too. It would be far harder to hear his harsh words about this.

The door to the chambers slid open. With a squeak, Sansa tugged down her shift and sat up in bed. Sandor ambled in, smelling of wine and sweat. He almost didn't notice her on the bed right away, but when he saw her staring at him with wide eyes, he looked her up and down and rasped, "What you lookin' at me like that for, Little Bird?"

"I-I…" She swallowed and told him slowly, "I didn't think you'd be back till later."

"Got off early," he grunted, looking less than amused by her words. "You eat dinner yet?"

She shook her head and mumbled, "I haven't been very hungry today."

"Gotta eat one way or the other girl. I'll get the girls to fetch some food."

"No!" she blurted out, startling him. She scrambled off of the bed and walked up to him. "I-I just want a night where it's the two of us. If they come now…" They always wanted to stay no matter what she said sometimes. Lately, they'd been more likely to decline her dismissals, until Sandor had to startle them out at night. If he wasn't there, she could be stuck with them all night until she faked sleep.

He stared at her, slightly startled by her outburst. She fiddled with her hands and then wrapped her arms around his torso. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. After several moments, the Hound rasped, "Anything the matter, girl?" She shook her head, still wrapped around him. She wanted to tell him so badly, wanted to open her mouth and let the words fall. But the impending chaos that could follow or the lack of him in her life again scared her so much, she almost started to shake. She knew now she could never be without him. He was a part of her, as much as Lady had been before and what she had left of her family now.

Reluctantly, she lifted her head and looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. She opened her mouth, hesitant and reluctantly told him, "I don't ever want you to leave. I need you here. We're together, we-"

He interrupted her by hoisting her up and kissing her fiercely. When they finally separated, Sansa flushed and silent, he told her lowly, "I ain't going nowhere." The fluttering in her stomach and the ache in her chest told her all that she needed to know. She tugged him in for another kiss, less fierce, but none the less passionately. She tried not to think about what she'd need to tell Sandor eventually. Sometime soon, she would have to speak the truth, tell him what he didn't know, but for the time being she contented herself with her secret.

Eventually, he managed to talk her into at least calling onto Shae for some food. She wrapped a fluffy robe around herself so she was a bit more presentable. He had plenty of food brought for both of them and told Shae to have the other girls bring him some water to bathe in. He wandered off from the room for only a moment, but it was enough for Sansa to pull the foreign girl aside and to tell her, "I'm not saying a word to him about _it_."

Shae fairly yanked her arm out of her grasp and demanded, "What do you mean you aren't telling him?"

Sansa glanced at the room, and then added, "I don't want him to know unless there are more signs. Until then…"

The handmaidens came back in with water at that moment, silencing whatever Shae might have added. The foreign girl gave her a fierce glare, but reluctantly settled back into her role of putting together the food that was brought up. She settled out, testing each food to see what she would enjoy the most. It was a good meal, with a large bird, some fruits and vegetables, and some sort of sticky cakes that made her taste buds sing it rejoice even though she couldn't pinpoint an extra taste or flavor to them. She ate several more than she should have and kept some extra peaches around for a midnight snack.

By the time Sandor came back for his bath, she'd inhaled over half of the food and was looking at the water in the tub with a bit of longing. Shae and the other handmaidens had disappeared. Ignoring the food, Sandor walked over towards the tub and, as he was pulling off his tunic, said to her, "You can come in too, Little Bird." She almost declined, thoughts of what she might look like in his eyes. Would he be able to see any difference? But then she thought about what he might think if she declined.

Swallowing, she nodded and, almost reluctant, untied the robe around herself. Her shift was easy to slip over her head and she watched as he was quick to remove his breeches and slid down into the steaming water. Almost reluctant, she padded over and climbed in in front of him. She sighed in content as the water touched her skin, but she almost flinched when the Hound wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her close. It wasn't often he was affectionate, but she noticed if they bathed together (not as often as one would expect, considering it took a lot of persuasion to try to even get him to bathe daily) or when they fell asleep around the same time, he didn't mind her being close.

For a long time they were silent. Sansa settled against his chest, letting her braided hair fall across her shoulder out of the water. She helped scrub the dirt and grime from his chest, arms and torso and flushed darkly when he suggested she go further below. Despite all that they'd done, Sansa always seemed embarrassed whenever he implied something inappropriate. Still, she could play the same game that he did and slyly said, "Of course I can help scrub your legs too!" He threw his head back and laughed. She did just as she said, taking time to wash him everywhere, but his manhood. He watched her with an amused expression, eventually tugging her back to him where she settled across his lap.

He took the soaped-up cloth from her fingers and used it across her shoulders to her chest. She almost whined when he ran it across her breasts, her nipples seeming extra sensitive. When rinsed off the soap and softly nipped at her shoulders, she leaned her head against him. He cupped each of her breasts, twisting and tugging gently on her nipples. It almost ached even though he didn't use enough pressure to hurt her, leaving her whimpering in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He moved one hand further down, near between her legs… She cringed the moment he brushed against her lower belly. Immediately, he let go of her. She froze.

"The hell is wrong with you tonight girl?" he asked, sounding suspicious.

"N-nothing," she stammered, staring at him with wide eyes and trying to pretend to be innocent. She knew how terrible of a liar she was, but she hoped he wouldn't notice too much. She lowered her eyes and added, "I just haven't been feeling real well. And I-well I'm a bit fat."

By the look on his face, he didn't believe a word she said. He might have laughed at her words if he couldn't tell she was lying so badly. When he went to open his mouth, she jumped onto the opportunity. She kissed him as best as she could, trying to distract him. For a moment, he seemed to struggle to focus against the fact she lied, but when she reached between them and used her hand to help slowly slide down onto his erect self, she knew she had him. She arched, moaning at the fullness and the delicious throb she felt.

He kissed her fiercely, finally, finally seeming to drop the suspicion and, instead of taking her as she expected, he wrapped his arm around her tightly and stood. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling him slide all the way into her. It was almost uncomfortably full.

He stepped out of the tub, immediately walking them over to their bed and lying her down on her back. She unwrapped her legs, but he was already driving into her. His mouth moved down to her neck, where he nipped and sucked and probably left another one of the dark marks she'd noticed in the past.

She tried to focus on what he was doing to her, tried to ignore the voices in her head whispering to her to tell him. She keened into his touches, the movement almost lagging to her, met each of his thrusts and moaned and whimpered, the noises almost hollow in her ears, until he finally stilled inside of her once more. She was too preoccupied in her own thoughts to even consider trying to finish herself. She just hoped he didn't notice.

As they lie there together, Sansa attemptedd not to think about the consequences of keeping her little secret to herself.

 **~A/N~**

 **Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for the long update, I've been playing with this chapter over and over again. And I was super nervous about writing Varys, he's such a difficult character.**

 **I'm expecting probably two, maybe three chapters left to wrap this up. And my mind is playing with the idea of a sequel, but that is extremely debatable.**

 **Thank you so so very much about the reviews!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Sansa was forced to put her trust in Tryrion Lannister and she waited. He told her they would have a plan by Lady Margery's wedding day. She had hesitated, but in the end, she knew he was her only ally in this situation. She had to trust him. She thought over what he said, watched as she noticed more and more signs of pregnancy, and dreaded to think of what Joffrey might do if he heard the news she was pregnant. When she stared in the mirror, she could see the small differences and noticed the swell of her belly had grown just a bit each time she really looked at it.

It was all terrifying.

She knew she would have to tell Sandor about the baby, but it worried her. Would someone be able to hear what she said even in this room alone? Is it possible the word would get all the way to the King? Or to Cersei herself?

Still, she knew there was more to her hesitance that just that. She feared that Sandor would not want her. Would he reject her because of the baby? Would he leave King's Landing, like he had planned during the night of the Battle? Joffrey never seemed to worry too much about the Hound wandering… Sansa knew she would have to tell him eventually, it just depended on how she did it and when. So, she practiced her words when she was alone. She would whisper them so quietly no one could hear, staring at the mirror, watching her reactions. She didn't dare imagine his reaction, didn't wonder if, just maybe, he would take this as a gift and love her. She doubted it.

She began to think that maybe he'd just contented himself with a girl he knew he would be stuck with. Perhaps he'd never love her at all…

At night, she laid in bed with him, wide awake. Her heart would be beating fast and at times she couldn't stop touching her belly. As she lay there, she wondered if he could ever tell a difference. Could he feel the tiny swell when he spread out his hands across her waist? Was there any chance he could feel the baby, moving or shifting? Then again, she couldn't feel anything either, so that was probably illogical. All logic had flown from her head. She laid there, scared to shift or move too much.

The signs were just getting worse. After her first few days of nausea in the morning, it seemed to have increased and gotten worse until she was feeling it several times almost every day. She tried to fight off the waves of nausea as much as she could, but occasionally she just let herself lay in bed until it passed. Between Cersei's spies and Sandor, Sansa didn't want anyone to suspect anything. Shae tried to help her as best as she could, but the foreign girl almost made her feel guiltier, between the scowls and the suggestions to tell Sandor about the baby.

It was unfortunate Sansa had to admit Jaynie was right. She couldn't fight the signs any longer about the baby. Getting out was the most important thing Sansa could think of. Telling Sandor about the baby was just a small detail that could be worked out later.

About three weeks after finding out the news, Sansa was called upon by Margaery once again. This time, the girl bid her out for a walk in the Gardens. They went by themselves this time, leaving behind both of their handmaidens. Margaery looped her arm through Sansa's and began talking with her about Highgarden. Sansa threw out some random topics that she'd heard about that followed along with Highgarden.

Eventually, they'd wandered far enough where they could see the water in the distance. Margaery giggled and said, "Let's go into the water!" She tugged the redhead towards the water without even waiting for Sansa's consent.

"Is that ok?" she asked as they neared the edge of the water.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Margaery asked with a bright smile.

Sansa hesitated and looked towards the water. She'd never even tried going near it since she'd been held hostage here. "I-"

"You aren't an old married woman yet! Enjoy yourself and have some fun!" Reluctantly, Sansa nodded and followed the girl to the edge. She watched Margaery slip off her slippers and followed suit, making sure hers were as close to the future Queen's as possible. She watched Margaery as she started out into the water without stopping, but Sansa was hesitant.

She observed Margaery as she wandered further and further out into the water. When the brown haired girl turned and waved her out, Sansa took her first step in. She almost gasped at the cold that surrounded her feet. But one more step, then another, and she couldn't help, but giggle. This helped relieve all the stress she'd been under, from the new pregnancy and Joffrey's sudden attention to her. She worried and stressed and all she wanted to do was curl up and pretend like nothing existed, like her life was nothing.

Margaery met back up with her near the shore and took her hand. "Come in a bit further." She was still smiling, but Sansa could see in her eyes that there was something on her mind. She followed after the girl, still enjoying the water despite the dread that settled in her chest. Eventually they were out far enough her dress brushed the water one way or the other. Margaery didn't seem to care in the least, she was more focused on making sure there was no one else around.

Finally, they stopped, when the water was up to their knees and their dresses were submerged. Sansa could imagine her dress would be ruined after this, but she found she didn't care much. Margaery was looking at her, thoughtful. "I needed to be able to talk to you today without worry that someone would be able to overhear. I know these walls have ears and whisper back to certain men. My grandmother and I have been watching where we say anything and still, somehow there are people who hear what we say. This is the only place where there are no walls and no way for someone to hide."

"What is it you needed to speak of?"

She gave her a smile and said, "I wanted to tell you congratulations! Grandmother had heard about the news of your preg-"

"How did you hear about that?" She could hear the note of panic in her voice and saw the way Margaery's eyes softened.

"Well, Lord Tyrion had someone come and talk to us. We're going to be your escape from here."

"You can't say anything to anyone," she said immediately, looking around herself to make sure no one could hear her. "Sandor doesn't know and-"

"Why haven't you told him?" Margaery cut in, with a frown on her face.

She couldn't say it, couldn't open her mouth and say that she was afraid her husband wouldn't want anything to do with her. But it was obvious Margaery could see the panicked, lost look on her face. The future queen leaned in and hugged Sansa. For a moment, the Clegane Lady had no clue what she should do. Eventually, she clung to the girl and tried not to cry.

After some time, Sansa moved away from the girl and asked, "Do you know anything about the plans?"

Margaery shrugged. "There isn't too much I know about. I do know Grandmother will help you get away the day of my wedding. She says I have to make sure you're sitting as far away from the Main table as possible and we need you to be able to keep your heads low. I'm going to tell King Joffrey I want you as far away from our main table as possible. There's just one requirement."

"What is that?" she asked. Margaery looked through her dress, until she pulled out a beautiful amethyst hairnet. Sansa took the hairnet in her hands, staring at the intricate threading and the beautiful stones. She looked up and, when Margaery said nothing, she questioned, "Why?"

"She didn't say. She just said to wear it the day of the feast. If you do this, she will make sure that you are able to escape."

Sansa stared at the hairnet in hand for several long moments and reluctantly nodded. "I will do whatever it takes to keep my husband safe." She looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you. If we get out of this alive, I will owe you a great debt."

Margaery took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I pray I will never need it. Now come. If we hurry, I can lend you a dress to wear back. I'll make sure this gets cleaned. I cannot imagine what my future husband would say if he sees what we've done to our gowns." Margaery giggled, still smiling. Sansa wanted to join her, but she found it wasn't funny to her. She really could imagine what he would do.

Her hand went to her belly, to the low swell that told her she truly was pregnant. She couldn't risk upsetting Joffrey in the least for the time being.

Margaery didn't seem to notice, starting on about her wedding and Joffrey the closer they got to shore. Sansa tried to smile, tried to act like she was interested in the conversation, but her nerves got the better of her. Her hand lingered far too long on her stomach and when she finally snapped out of it, the future Queen was looking at her nervously. She squeezed her arm gently and waited until Sansa smiled to continue talking.

Getting back to Margaery's chambers was uneventful, but not quiet. Margaery seemed intent to distract Sansa as best as she could. Sansa tried to join in on the conversation as best as she could, but she found she would trail off and fall silent while they walked. She needed to think over all of the information she was told. She didn't know if Sandor would be back early or if she would have time to herself before dinner with the Royal Family.

The handmaidens all began fussing about the dresses as soon as the two women walked into the room. Margaery dismissed them with a laugh and said, "I wouldn't worry about this. I was just feeling a bit of a swim this morning."

"Milady, you really shouldn't ruin these dresses," one of Sansa's maids said, sounding concerned.

"I'm lending her a dress, no need to worry about those, I will get them cleaned," Margaery said firmly. "Olive, why don't you pick out my beautiful purple dress for Lady Sansa?" The youngest of the girls curtseyed and hurried off to Margaery's wardrobe without a word. She turned to the others and said, "Why don't the rest of you fetch some food for a midday meal? As long as you don't mind, Lady Sansa."

The redhead smiled at the future queen and said, "I don't mind one bit. If Shae could just stay, to help me out of my dress…"

"Of course," Margaery smiled. The girls all bowed and started out of the room, the foreign girl and Olive being the only ones that remained. She leaned in and told Sansa, "She's the only one I can fully trust. She's unable to read or write and has a hard time speaking, but even so, she would be the only one I trust. She's been a great companion."

Olive returned then, two gowns thrown over her arm. Shae bowed to Margaery and asked, "Is there any place you'd like for Lady Sansa to change in?"

Margaery waved her hand and said, "Oh, don't worry about it. We're both girls here, neither of us will mind."

Shae hesitated a moment, her eyes flickering to Sansa, but the Clegane Lady said nothing and smiled at her. Margaery had started talking again, letting Olive unlace her, but still directly looking at Sansa. Eventually, she asked, "Does Shae know?" At her slightly surprised look, she said with a giggle, "Why else would you ask for her to help directly? It isn't obvious though, right?"

Immediately, the foreign girl's hands stilled and her eyes slid over to the brown haired girl. Sansa nodded and said, "I don't think so, but Shae is worried about it. The other girls report to Cersei, so of course…"

She nodded and asked, "Can I see? Like, if I can see any sign…?"

Sansa hesitated, and then quietly told Shae, "You can unlace me."

"Does she know about…?" she asked just as quiet.

"Yes."

Hesitant, but with nimble fingers, Shae had her undone in record time. She let the dress fall to the floor, leaving Sansa in nothing, but her undergarments. Sansa fought to not cover herself and waited. Margaery's eyes were fixed solely on her belly. When she looked down herself, it was hardly noticeable, but the swell Sansa knew had developed certainly hadn't been there before. "It isn't noticeable at all! How did you…?"

"A woman was able to confirm it. And with the morning sickness and all…"

Margaery nodded, still fixated to see if she could see a sign. Sansa wanted to touch her belly, unused to the attention, but she fought that urge and waited until Margaery smiled at her again and said, "I just can't believe it's happened already."

She stepped into the new gown offered to her and said, "It was stupid of me. I should have tried preventing…"

"You shouldn't have to," Margaery told her, now frowning. "This is part of your duty as a wife, it's a necessity. It shouldn't matter where you are." Sansa didn't reply, keeping quiet as Shae had her step into the new gown and laced her back up in this new dress. It was tighter around her middle, even with the loosened ties, but there wasn't much they could do. She knew Shae disapproved that she confided with Margaery, but Sansa was to the point she didn't care.

The midday meal tasted very bland. Sansa found she didn't have an appeal for any of the foods presented, including the peaches. She poked around at the food, only took small bites and tried to keep conversation with Margaery as light as possible. The future Queen seemed just as adamant about keeping the conversation going and as cheerful as possible. The topic switched to stories and books and that was distracting for a while.

Eventually, Sansa had to leave. She thanked Margaery profusely for the company, smiled all the way to her chambers, and finally sent all of the girls away. It wasn't until she was totally alone that she finally collapsed onto her bed. She was exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically. She was tired of all this fighting, of the mental battle and the constant worry that someone would discover her secret. More than anything, she wished Sandor knew, so that she could go to him about all of her worries.

She let herself doze off, lacking the energy to stay awake. She only floated no the abyss of unconsciousness. She was able to hear everything going on around her, as her handmaidens milled in and out, checking on her. They murmured quietly, but louder now that they thought she was unconscious. She could hear as one girl talked about reporting to Cersei, how another thought it would be best to wake her up. Dinner was probably rolling around shortly.

Thankfully, Shae dissuaded any of them from disturbing her. The foreign girl seemed to be hovering around her constantly. Sansa wondered whether she did it to keep the other girls away or if it was for her own personal agenda. She decided it was probably for both. But now, it was time to just rest and think. She did much thinking over the time, between Margaery's plan and her own. She still wasn't sure whether Sandor would even willingly come with her the day of the wedding.

Dinner time came and went. She could hear the handmaidens in the background, wanting to wake her up, but not wanting to disturb her. Shae sent one of the girls to let Joffrey and Margaery know Sansa wouldn't be making dinner. Sansa could hear one of the girls making her way over to her bedside. "Milady," she heard Shae whisper. Almost reluctant, she grumbled and lifted her head from the pillow she was buried in. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, looking a bit concerned.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, burying her face back into her pillow. "I'm tired and exhausted. I just want to sleep."

"You'll be missing the meal with King Joffrey. I-"

"I don't care. I'm just not getting up." She waited for Shae to scold her or give her the opinion of her attitude. Instead, the foreign girl just sighed and walked off. She kept her face in the pillows as Shae asked for food to be brought up within the next two hours. Her other handmaidens began trickling out of the room, but Shae stayed behind. She bustled around the room, cleaning, moving and picking up everything she could possibly do. When she ran out of any messes, she wandered over to Sansa's bed. The redhead refused to acknowledge Shae. The foreign girl hovered for some time, worry clear in her eyes. Eventually, she huffed in annoyance and, to Sansa's surprise, crawled into bed with her. When she wrapped her arms around the redhead and mumbled, "You're going to be fine," Sansa's eyes fill with tears.

"I'm so scared Shae," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around Shae's. "I'm scared that Joffrey might find out or Queen Cersei. Sandor might abandon me. And all I have are promises from families who've done nothing, but scheme around me. I know Lady Margaery wants to be on my side, but I don't trust her any more than Lord Tyrion. It's all just…"

"Hush," Shae scolded, sounding firm. "Everything will work out just fine. You wait, listen to Margaery's advice, and take Sandor with you. There's nothing else to worry about."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the door to the chambers opened. Immediately, the foreign girl got up, expecting the other handmaidens to be back with dinner. Instead, Sansa heard her say, sounding less than thrilled, "Oh, it's just you."

"No need to sound so happy," Sandor grunted, shocking Sansa. She stilled and tried to burrow further into her comforter and pillows. She touched her belly, pressing her hands against her little bump. She could hear Sandor ambling around, muttering. He eventually asked Shae, "She eat anything yet today?"

"A bit," Shae said flatly. "She's been sleeping since a little after midday. Maerie went to let the Queen know she hasn't been feeling well. It's been a long day."

He cursed, then asked, "She heard about it, didn't she?"

Sansa tensed. Just as Shae was asking, "What did she hear about," Sansa was sitting up and demanding, "What do I need to hear about?"

The first thing she noticed was the expression on his face. Sandor had lost his usual gruff expression and annoyance. It was replaced with an almost regretful look on his features. She noticed a handful of crumbled up parchment in his fist. "What happened?" she asked again, one hand still on her belly unconsciously. "Who died now?"

Was it supposed to be sad that she had to ask that question? Should she have felt dreadful or like she wanted to cry? She knew she should have felt something, she knew it was unhealthy to not feel that sense of despair. All she could think about was her family; Sandor and their unborn child. She had no control over anything else, but those two. When he still didn't open his mouth or argue with her question, she felt numb. Was that all she could feel now?

Her expression must have fallen, must have given some sign that she wasn't as strong as she sounded. He stalked over to her, dropping the parchments on the bed, sitting down, and taking hold of her shoulders. His touch was gentler than she could ever remember; he looked at her, his expression serious. His eyes told her he was there, just for her. "Stay strong, Little Bird. What happens next-"

"I have you," she said quietly. He seemed to understand she wasn't going to cry, break down like she had with Bran and Rickon. She scooted closer and set her head on his shoulders. She focused on the parchment and asked, "What are those?"

"Letters I'd found," he muttered, his large arms wrapping around her and tugging her onto his lap. She settled against him, closing her eyes and breathing in the smell of wine and sweat.

Shae had fallen silent, watching the scene before her. She didn't trust the ex-Knight, was never sure if a man like him could ever be right for a girl like Sansa Clegane née Stark. Still, as she watched the Hound talking to Sansa, find whatever words it was the redheaded sweet girl needed to hear, Shae began to understand what it was Sansa had told her all those weeks ago. Perhaps Sandor Clegane did have a soft spot for his wife…

Sansa focused back on the fact that her husband had brought her letters. Still not lifting her head, she reached out and grabbed onto a random parchment. Sandor grabbed her forearm before she could unfold it. She focused up on his grey eyes, noticed the look in his eyes. "Who are these for?"

"They're yours, Little Bird," he muttered. "Found a whole stash of them in the Maester fucker's little office. When I'd heard…" He cut off, and pressed a kiss to her head.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, lowering her eyes. When he didn't answer her question immediately, she said, "It was Robb and Catelyn, wasn't it?"

"Little Bird…"

"Please, tell me the details. Before Joffrey has a chance to rub it in my face," she fairly begged. And tell her, he did. He told her about the wedding, that Robb had gotten married to a girl in a minor House, even though he'd been betrothed to one of Lord Frey's daughters. That he and Lady Catelyn had arranged to have Lord Edmure married in Robb's stead. Then he told her about the details of, what peopled named, "The Red Wedding". "You're Mother… she'd been killed. There was no doubt about it. They paraded her around, gave the details in full length…"

"What about Robb?" she asked, sounding tired.

"Rumor has it that he escaped off in the night, injured, but with his bloody direwolf at his heels. I heard from one of the Knights passing that the cunt King has a bounty of thousands of Gold Dragons for Robb's head. More if they can bring the direwolf pet too."

He fell silent again, waiting for her reaction. Sansa didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to feel. All she could think was, _'Robb is okay.'_ He was okay, Sandor was with her, she had an escape plan. There wasn't anything more she felt she needed to handle. She could grieve after they were out of King's Landing. So, she just stared back at him, then looked at the letter in her hand. With steady hands, she unfolded the parchment and smoothed out the wrinkles. She could see the hand writing, recognized her mother's words. She touched the script with her fingertips and folded it back up.

She couldn't read them, not now.

"Put these with the other one I have," she whispered and then leaned up for a kiss. She never got tired of kissing him, even with the burns and the scruff on his face. A simple touch of his lips had her melting in his grasp. When he used his teeth, she was so wet she could fill a whole puddle. When he used his mouth, down where she still couldn't name, she was his, always.

Still, conscious of the fact Shae was somewhere in the room, Sansa pulled away and murmured, "Thank you for telling me."

"…" She could see the look in his eyes, on his face, that he wanted to ask her if she was okay. She couldn't be sure of how she was feeling. "You need to eat dinner soon, Little Bird," he told her eventually, his eyes shifting.

A small smile spread across her face, and she almost started giggling. It was almost sweet that he was so concerned, but he had no clue how to bring it up. But that died down the moment she remembered the plan Margaery had told her about. Almost reluctant, she said, "I'll do that… But on one condition."

His ever present look of annoyance was back. "What is it?" he asked gruffly.

"When the time comes, trust me. Don't question it, don't take a moment to hesitate. Just come with me." She could see the question in his eyes immediately following her words. "Don't ask why, just do it."

"… Is there anything the matter, Little Bird?"

"Not at all," she told him. "Just do this and I will explain everything when the time comes."

"…Fucking hells, Little Bird, you'll be the death of me," he growled. Still, she could see he wasn't truly upset. She smiled and pressed her lips firmly against his.

It would be okay.

They would survive this.

 **~A/N~**

 **So thank you all for being patient for the updates! I lost a bit of my writing spur (which you may or may not be able to tell with this chapter), but it finally came back. Down to the last chapter and epilogue! And I already have big plans for a beginning chapter to a sequel! Let's hope that this upcoming chapter works as well as the others. it's a bit of a different way than I write, but I had a weird writing mood this morning.**

 **Thank you so much for all the feedback and reviews!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Margaery's wedding day was fast approaching. She and Sansa talked frequently, trying to come up with plans for the day she'd escape. The Clegane Lady worried about packing up what would be necessary to bring. She wanted to bring all of her clothes from North, it was most likely going to be getting chilly soon enough. Would she need any bedding? Or food?

Some days it felt like everyone could read what she was thinking or trying to do. Joffrey was in a fouler mood whenever he saw her, as if he could tell she was carrying Sandor's baby. Margaery tried to keep her as busy as possible and offered advice for what to pack. Queen Cersei continued to avoid her, tried not to look at Sansa if she could help it.

And Sansa simply sat and waited and worried. She didn't know if she would ever feel comfortable enough now that she fully acknowledged that she had a baby and husband to protect while she was in a den of lions. She wanted to so badly, but she felt if she rejected the idea, it was like the pregnancy could be invisible.

She just hoped the escape plan worked.

* * *

Lord Tyrion came around midday, a few thin books in his arms. "Lady Sansa," he said, bowing as he waddled into her chambers. "I brought you some light reading, in case you were in need of a bit of insight with your…"

"Oh yes," Sansa said, cutting him off, nervous to hear him say anything about her pregnancy. "I appreciate your thought, but will these be of any help?"

"They might, milady," he said with a small smile to her. "Any knowledge you could find out would most likely be helpful, as you don't have anyone here that would be open and willing to really help that has had experience with it." She bowed her head and gave thanks. He didn't stay long, but he shoved a crumpled up parchment in her hand and he did leave his reading material behind. A glance at the piece of parchment told her it was a map for their escape. Tucking it away quietly in the satchel she had stuffed in the far back of the wardrobe, she wandered over and hesitantly opened up the top book. She skimmed some of the pages, until she came across one that intrigued her. _Expect to be able to feel the baby move within the sixteenth to twentieth week of your pregnancy. I could as early as the seventeenth week…_

* * *

Shae came in one day, her hands full with different clothes and concoctions. She set them on the table, glancing around the room quickly. It was midday, usually the time Sansa was completely alone. Sandor was off, helping set up the Red Keep for the Wedding Feast. Her other handmaidens were off getting the evening meal assembled. "We must make it look as if you're getting the moonsblood," Shae said, looking at Sansa. "The girls have begun talking. They're suspicious. I know tricks to make it look like you're bleeding."

"Did Lord Tyrion think this would be best?" she asked, already walking to Shae without actually questioning the idea. Shae nodded, her eyes focused on Sansa's belly, which was looking a bit more present than usual.

"You shouldn't wear that dress no more," Shae said finally, turning back to the table. "Now, this will take a bit of work, but if you do it while your husband is sleeping and change it periodically throughout the day…" Sansa sat and listened to the explanation, nodding. Whatever she had to do, she would do it to protect her baby and husband.

* * *

Joffrey stared at her from across the breakfast table, an unamused expression on his face. She had thought he would boast about what had happened at the Red Wedding, but he'd yet to make anything other than a vague announcement to her. She wondered if he was waiting for her to beg him for information. Did he want her to get on her knees and crawl to him, asking and crying for news of her family?

She refused to do anything that humiliating again.

When he continued to stare at her, her shoulders tensed and she continued to play with her food quietly. She wasn't hungry. He certainly wasn't helping with the pressure. Her sickness was worse today, even though one of her books had said usually it fades out by now. If she was remembering correctly, she was almost sixteen weeks along now…

"It's not fitting anymore! Just… just take it off," Sansa huffed in frustration, moving away from Shae. The dark haired girl scowled heavily.

"We can't just let your dress hang loose, I must tie it! They're going to see-"

"I don't give a damn what they see! I'm fat and round and this clearly isn't going away! I don't want the life squeezed out of me!" she said, her voice filled with tears. She wiped at her eyes angrily and said, "Just try the next one. Use one of the summer dresses if you have to."

Shae sighed and reluctantly said, "Let me try one last thing, Milady." She took the lacing and did it up as loosely as possible around her torso. She could make it at least try to make it look like she had tied the dress all the way. The dress still looked far too tight around her torso. "Is that better?"

Sansa nodded in response, sniffling slightly. Shae sighed again. It would be a long day indeed.

* * *

Sansa stopped suddenly, her hand going to her belly. Shae, Lady Margaery, and Olive stopped immediately, and the future Queen asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Come here," Sansa said, her voice growing in excitement. When the Tyrell princess was close enough, the redhead took her hand and pressed it to the side of her bump. "Can you feel that?"

After a moment, Margaery shook her head. "I don't feel anything, I'm sorry." She had a genuine look of apology on her face, but Sansa couldn't stop grinning. It was the first time she'd felt anything, just a light flutter of movement in her abdomen. "He moved, I can feel it," she whispered, fairly glowing.

Margaery raised her eyes brows and teased, "He?"

She smiled and shrugged. "I guess so." Her hand lingered on her belly, wondering if she could feel anything on the outside yet. She tried not to let the little thrill of giving him a gender fill her with giddiness.

She lay there in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling of their room. She shifted again, gnawing on her bottom lip, trying to fight it. She glanced at Sandor, naked and sprawled out on their bed, dead asleep to the world. She wondered if he would really mind…

"Sandor." She nudged him as hard as she dared, not wanting to anger or startle him. The ex-Knight grumbled and grabbed hold of one of the pillows to cover his face. "Sandor!" Sansa said just a bit louder, poking his side, right where she knew he was a bit sensitive. Growling, he lifted his head and stared at the redheaded girl who was sitting up in bed with a lit candle. She barely let the comforter cover her bared breasts and her legs were sprawled on top of the comforter. "Sandor?"

" 'at's the matter, girl?" he grunted, dropping his head back on the pillow.

"I need you to go to the kitchens for me." Her stomach growled at her words and her mouth was fairly watering thinking about what she wanted. When her husband looked at her quizzically, she flushed and said, "I didn't want to go get one of the handmaidens, they're so far away… But I really, really need some of those sticky cakes they brought the other days. You know, the ones with the cinnamon and honey? Oh, and maybe that Peach juice that Lady Margaery had brought over when she had the midday meal with us last week? And…" She trailed off, as she noticed Sandor's look of disbelief. She blushed harder and ducked her head. "Unless, you don't want to. I'm sorry, it's just…"

He dropped his head to the pillow again and began to laugh. "You woke me up in the dead of night because you didn't get enough of a sweet fix at dinner?"

She didn't want to admit she was craving some of those pork chops covered in gravy. Still, she nodded and said timidly, "They just sound so good right now. But I think I can survive-"

Sandor groaned, but groused out, "I'll go see what I can do." She giggled as he put on his breeches and started out of the chambers to the kitchens.

"Thank you!" she called out as an afterthought. Flopping back down onto the bed, she touched her little swell and smiled. "Hopefully, he'll take this as well as the food," she told herself quietly. Then she thought of maybe get some of the pork slabs for breakfast…

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no," she muttered to herself quietly, crouched over by the window seat with the washbin in hand. Her stomach rolled and heaved, but she tried to fight the nausea as best as she could. The sun was barely evening touching the edge of the water, the sky was still very dark, and already the morning nausea had begun. "I thought this was done and over with," she moaned softly, pressing her forehead against the cool rock. She hadn't been feeling sick for almost a week.

Thankfully, Sandor was still in bed, asleep.

She fought down another wave, not wanting to puke and gag and wake up Sandor. She'd managed to keep her sickness to herself, from her handmaidens or her husband at all times. She blamed this on yet another night of snacking, this time some sort of caramel covered biscuit and pickled cucumbers.

Just thinking about the food made her stomach clench. This time, she couldn't hold it down and began to retch.

"You're supposed to be happy with the food I give you. You're the one asking for it," she told her belly quietly, moaning again and leaning back over the basin.

When Shae finally came into the chambers, earlier than anyone else as usual, she came into the sight of Sansa, half bare and leaned over the basin. Immediately, she put down the dress she had in hand and went to Sansa. The girl leaned into her, shaky, clammy, and almost crying. "This can't be happening today," Sansa almost sobbed. "It's been so good, I thought I would be okay for today."

Shae shushed her, glancing at the large man still asleep in bed. "You are going to be fine. We'll get you cleaned up, you'll take a long hot bath, and I'll go talk with Lady Margaery about excusing you from the Breakfast she'd invited you to."

"But-"

"No, don't you dare start doubting. Suck it up. This is it, what Lord Tyrion has told you to wait for. You will do this."

Sansa sniffled, but nodded and tried to sit up. She began to look a bit green again, but Shae took the bin from her before she could puke. The foreign girl brought her back a cup of water and said, "I'll get the girls to fetch some water for a bath. Just sit and relax for a moment." Sansa nodded, watched her take the basin out of the room. She buried her face into her hands, taking several deep breaths.

Today was the Wedding.

It was time.

* * *

Sansa was primed and prepped for hours. She soaked for over an hour in the tub, trying to settle her stomach and attempting to get rid of her pale complexion. Her handmaidens painted on makeup and jewels and made sure Sansa had never looked more beautiful. Her dress was gorgeous, with teals and beige and accents of gold, hugging her just right where her curves and bosom were heavily accented. Her waist was tight, but Margaery had been kind enough to get it resized just before the wedding so it wasn't unbearable. Her hair was plaited back into a beautiful braid falling down across her shoulders and the hairnet was weaved in so it covered most of her hair, but left some of her braid loose. She hoped no one would question how she'd gotten such a beautiful piece for the wedding.

Shae reported back quietly that Margaery was completely okay with her missing the breakfast (she had been insistent that Sansa had come to hers rather than joining the Lannister family for Joffrey's breakfast), just that she needed to be ready by midday for the marriage. Sansa understood that the future Queen was more than pleased to be able to use this as an excuse to rearrange the seating during the Wedding Feast.

Sandor was cleaned up as nicely as she was, his bread trimmed back so short he pretty much just had scruff. His hair was cleaned, brushed to Shae's liking, and set up in the best tunic and jerkin she could manage to get him. He grumbled, snapped at the fussing, but the foreign girl was adamant and not discouraged by his rough exterior.

Sansa sat, giggling, watching the exchange and trying not to touch her belly. It was getting harder and harder each day not to acknowledge the pregnancy constantly. When he groused and finally shook off Shae, it was almost time to go. Sansa stood up, her balance a bit wobbly. Sandor focused on her, looked at the meal behind her, and asked, "You eat anything at all, Little Bird?"

Just talking about the food made her stomach flop, but she swallowed and said, "I'm holding out for dinner tonight. I heard there's a seventy-seven course meal?"

He frowned at her subtle attempt to change the subject and said, "I ain't stupid, girl. You need to be eating. I know what happened-"

"This has nothing to do with my Mother." She tensed at the words as they came out of her mouth. She almost started tearing up, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. "I just haven't been feeling well. It's a stressful day and I'm worried with King Joffrey-"

"He won't do a thing to you," Sandor growled. "I ain't gonna let it happen, Little Bird."

She nodded, swallowing and staring up at him with wide eyes. "We should probably get going, then. I'm sure Lady Margaery will want us there early." He was still staring at her with suspicion, but she simply smiled and took his large hand in hers.

* * *

Margaery was absolutely stunning. She had the most beautiful ivory dress on, with her bodice vined as a rose. Her hair was tucked up and plaited stylishly, she smiled winsomely. Sansa couldn't believe anyone else could look so bewitching. She winked at Sansa as she passed the redhead and touched her hair in a subtle way that she understood Margaery was glad she wore the hair net. Thankfully, she and Sandor were near the far back. Despite her being one of the last living members of House Stark, she was still considered so lowly compared to the rest of the Families. They weren't privileged a front row seat.

Sansa noticed Queen Cersei staring at her, glaring and scowling at the sight of her standing beside her husband. She averted her gaze and focused on the young couple standing in front of the Mother and Father statues in the Great Sept. So far, she'd managed to avoid any confrontation with the Queen Regent and Cersei hadn't bothered to call upon her or visit her chambers. She should have been more concerned, that maybe the Lannister woman was trying to find a way to dissolve the marriage. But she had gone over every situation and, unless Sandor was killed, there was no way to remarry her off. Besides, Sansa was used goods. There wasn't a man in the Seven Kingdoms who'd really want to marry a girl who'd been with a Clegane. So she hoped, anyway.

The Wedding was long. It dragged on for some time, far longer than Sansa could remember hers being. By the time Margaery and Joffrey had begun to exchange vows (after the Priest had droned on and on), Sansa's head began to throb. When Joffrey had laid his cloak across Margaery's shoulders, Sansa was feeling a bit weak. She tried to lean against Sandor for a little bit of support as subtly as possible. All she wanted to do was sit down or curl up in bed. She was tired and a bit cranky, but tried her best to stay still and keep her expression neutral. A glance at Sandor told her he looked just as impatient, if not more. He grumbled a few times, but Sansa scolded him quietly each time he did it.

No one else seemed to notice the couple. In fact, some refused to even really look at them. After all those months, it was amazing that no one seemed to be able to accept the fact a scarred older man was married to a beautiful younger girl. Mildly annoyed by her sudden change of thoughts and feeling hotter the further in the afternoon they got, Sansa was down to her last straw of patience by the time Margaery and Joffrey sealed the wedding with a kiss. Her back ached just a bit, her stomach still hadn't settled, and now Sansa had to sit through a seventy-seven course meal with performers and her attempts to make sure she still looked the part of a perfect Lady.

She didn't dare acknowledge the look Joffrey sent towards her, sneering and looking smug with Margaery draped on him like the perfect bride.

The Wedding Feast was being served in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. The Court began to leave the Sept, shuffling and murmuring and some chanting for sweet Lady Margaery. The Clegane family was quiet, trying to blend in with the crowd. Sansa looped her arm with Sandor as they walked, keeping her head high and a polite smile on her face. One Lady Margareta, sweet as she could be but a bit dull in the head, slid over beside the family and asked Sansa, "Are you feeling all right today? You sure are looking a bit pale, Lady Clegane." Sansa almost stilled at her words and tried to brush off the concern with a laugh. But she could feel Sandor tense beside her and knew he was focused solely on her now.

Once the Lady had disappeared, he rasped quietly, "What's the matter? And don't you dare try to lie to me."

She flinched, refusing to meet his eyes. Her hand almost went to her belly, but she paused part way up and put it on his forearm instead. "I'm fine." She tried to smile at him, but he scowled at her and yanked her off to the side from the crowd.

Her face burned. She could feel others watching the speculation. She had a hard time making eye contact with anyone. "I'm tired of the lying," he snarled, louder than necessary. She flinched and stared at the ground. "You've done nothing, but sneak around and keep things to yourself. I'm fucking tired of letting you just whisper on with your fucking handmaiden and that manipulative bitch! I want some god damn answers!"

"Sandor, please," she said quietly. He had a hard grip on her arms and he was staring at her like he had all that time ago. It almost brought tears to her eyes. She looked up at him timidly, and said, "I asked you to trust me weeks ago. Do you remember? I need you to put that faith in me now. I promise, tonight I will explain everything." He continued staring at her, his expression far from pleased or even okay. Gently, she tried prodding, "We really need to continue-"

"I don't give a fuck what we need or don't need to do!" he snapped. "I can tell something is the fucking matter. You wanted me here, you wanted this damn marriage, so fucking act like we're married!"

She was mildly surprised he even acknowledged their marriage. She gave him a small smile and hugged him tightly around his torso. She wanted to tell him now, about the baby, about what they would be expecting in less than five moons. But she doubted he'd be able to stay calm through the dinner, up to when Lady Olenna was ready to take them away. She stepped up on her tippy toes and kissed him briefly on the lips. When she pulled away, he grabbed hold of her, hoisting her up so he could kiss her more fiercely, his mouth demanding.

When they finally parted, Sansa felt hot and bothered as he stared at her. "Tonight," he told her gruffly, letting her feet touch the ground once more. She nodded mutely, a bit flushed and wanting him to touch her more. She noticed everyone passing by directly avoided looking at them. She giggled softly, wrapped her arm around his once more, and walked them back into the stream of people.

The Red Keep was absolutely packed. Tables lined the hall, pushed as closely together as they possibly could. The head table was higher up, to look down upon the rest of the Court. Lady Margaery and King Joffrey were just arriving, riding upon matched chargers. Sansa clapped with the rest of the crowd politely, casually scanning the tables and looking to see if there was any particular place she and Sandor would be sitting.

As everyone started getting ready to be seated and directed to their proper tables, Lady Olenna wandered over to Sansa and Sandor. Immediately, a bright smile spread across Sansa's face as she curtseyed and said, "Congratulation Lady Olenna. I'm sure you're just thrilled with Lady Margaery's wedding today."

Sandor mumbled, almost under his breath, his congratulations, his expression far from polite or welcoming. The older lady rolled her eyes, gave Sandor a good look over, and said, "Glad to see you've taught this Dog some manners, child."

She almost opened her mouth to correct Lady Olenna, but bit her tongue and instead said, "Thank you for the beautiful hairnet for today. I don't believe I quite deserve such a beautiful piece-"

"Oh hush now, you did as I asked. In return I'll do what you've been offered."

She could almost feel Sandor's eyes on her, even as she smiled and said, "I was wondering where we'd be seated? Neither of us were told just where…"

"Oh, yes, I believe my granddaughter told me it would be just at the far end here. I can walk with you."

She and Lady Olenna talked as they walked to the tables, thankfully the crowd had thinned out a bit. Just as Sansa turned to thank the older lady for her help, Lady Olenna reached up and adjusted the hairnet. "It looked a bit crooked, my dear… That reminds me, did you receive the parchment I had sent the other day? I was sure it would be quite helpful."

"Yes," she said just as quietly, focused right on her. "I have it with me at all times."

"Good. Be ready, my dear."

"How will I know?"

She patted her hand and gave her a small smile. "You'll know. Trust me."

When Lady Olenna left them, Sansa took a seat beside Sandor and looked up. The main table was so far away, hardly anyone would really be able to focus on them. Perfect. A small glance at Sandor told Sansa he looked less than pleased. He looked angrier than usual and very annoyed, but he kept his mouth quiet and drank as much wine as he could get a hold of. She almost wanted to tell him not to drink, but she thought it better to keep quiet instead. They'd be eating plenty of food; surely it wouldn't matter too much if he had a bit of wine.

She almost wished she could have some as well, but she worried more about if that would affect the child at all.

It didn't take long for the first performer, someone called Hamish the Harper, to come up to the center of the Throne room and the first of seventy-seven dishes were brought out to eat. It was some sort of cheddar soup in a tiny dish, with bits of noodles and what looked like chicken served with a platter of very thin biscuits. The first whiff made Sansa's stomach curl, but she took one of the biscuits and nibbled on it. She played around in the soup, dipped a few of the biscuits in the soup to see if that would help, and listened to the performer wail on with his singing.

There wasn't anybody to her left side that she knew or wanted to talk to, so that left her with just Sandor. But he wasn't interested in saying a word to her, only grunted when she tried to make any conversation. It made the night all the more depressing. The room was loud, the music wasn't good, and Sansa felt hot. She was ready for the afternoon to be over, but there were still so many dishes and then the ceremonial pie.

She sighed deeply, but tried to keep her Lady-like composure on the surface. One of the women at the next table leaned over and tried to talk over the loud music. Sansa couldn't hear a word she said, but smiled and nodded as she the woman waved her arms around about the Throne room. She was sure it had something to do with the wedding.

The dishes came and went, the food disappeared so quickly sometimes Sansa didn't have a chance to focus on it. There were platters of fish, little dishes of soups and breads, and so many different sweet bites that Sansa was already completely stuffed by the tenth dish. Her stomach rolled at most of the smells, but she never felt sick enough that she needed to excuse herself from the table.

Performers came and went throughout the entire feast. A trained bear and Pentoshi tumblers followed Hamish the Harper. More performers continued filtering in and out. The Court fools came in at one point, to break up the music, and more performers came in. Some pipers came to sing their songs. Others brought in trained dogs to entertain the guests. Sword swallowers came in intervals. Pyromancers that Sansa was faintly familiar with joined in about halfway through the feast. And, to top everything else, there were special Dancers from the Summer Isles. It should have been a beautiful performance, but instead Sansa felt sick.

Sansa should have been focused on the merry-making of the event or going along with those in attendance. Instead, she found her focus waivered to the Head table and Sandor beside her. She couldn't help, but touch her bump underneath the table cloth, as if to calm herself just a bit. It seemed to help settle her nerves.

Even as far away from the Head table as they were, Sansa could hear when Joffrey began taunting Lord Tyrion. She watched how quickly the Court turned from such merriment to something so tense it was hard to breathe. She couldn't believe that everyone just seemed to tune out the insults and rude words thrown right at the man who was helping her escape. She noticed even Sandor was blind to what all was happening (granted, he was drinking down so much wine and scarfing down as much food as he possibly could. He seemed to always tune out anything in the world at that point). She flinched as she listened to Joffrey beginning to threaten Tyrion in a voice she knew too well. She watched Margaery get up from her seat, and call her new Husband's attention from killing. She saw Lady Olenna had slipped from behind her daughter's chair, almost completely inconspicuous.

Thankfully, the pigeon pie was brought out at this time. The smell of the pie as the six cooks brought it out made Sansa's stomach churn the worst it had all afternoon. Ilyne Payne is the man deemed to cut the pie, freeing the doves. She noticed the sword he had in his hand and her fists clenched together.

There was no way that was any other kind of sword. It had to have been Ice. That almost made tears come to her eyes.

That was when it began. Joffrey had downed his chalice of wine, and had begun to scarf down his pie. Sansa couldn't even touch the pie, the smell was so bad to her. She nudged Sandor, finally catching his attention, and asked quietly, "Do you want the pie? It just doesn't smell good to me-"

Then the coughing had begun.

Everyone's attention went to the Head table immediately. Joffrey had tried to wave it off, tried to convince the court he'd simply swallowed the pie wrong and he drank more of the wine poured into his cup. But the coughing persisted.

Even from where Sansa was sitting, she could see his face had started to change color.

Someone screamed near the high table.

Within a minute, the entire Throne room was in chaos. Margaery was sobbing above the crowd, Cersei was screaming, Lady Olenna was screeching for someone to help. Sandor had stood up immediately, coming up behind Sansa and pulling her out of her seat. She could only stare. She knew, just knew, this was the moment Lady Olenna had told her about. She wasn't sure how to react for a moment. She realized Sandor was close enough; Sansa leaned in and told him, "Follow me!" She knew which exit to take, knew the hall she needed to go down. For a moment, he looked ready to argue with her. Instead, he tugged her into his side and started shoving through the crowd. Sansa pointed down which hall to go and pulled out the parchment as Sandor rushed her down the hall.

"Stop, stop, stop! Turn here, Sandor!" she stammered out, almost missing their turn.

He snarled at her and said, "We're going to the chambers-"

"No, we're not!" They stopped immediately, panting heavily and staring each other down.

He looked her up and down and his lip curled up as he snapped, "You knew about this, didn't you?"

She shook her head. "I knew nothing, I only know what Lady Olenna has planned for me-"

"Why the fuck are you planning anything with those Tyrells?! I told you not to trust a one of those cunts. They're all liars-"

"It wasn't me who made this decision! Just trust me, we need to keep moving!"

"I fucking want to know what the hell is going on," he growled lowly, glaring at her so fiercely, she'd never seen that expression directed towards her before.

Before she could open her mouth, Shae had popped out of corner, bags in her hands. She looked mildly annoyed as she said, her accent heavy, "You coming or no? They're going to be looking soon enough."

"Come on, Sandor," Sansa said, taking his hand and tugging him into the hall. She tried to ignore the murderous look that had spread across his face as he was forced to follow the two girls down the hall.

 **~A/N~**

 **And, now there's just the epilogue! I hope this chapter was okay, I know the beginning was a bit weird, but I'd had all these small scenes written out, so I decided to throw them into a random beginning. Hopefully you all enjoyed them!**

 **Thank you for sticking along so far with the story! I'm juggling the idea of a sequel, let me know what you think!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Shae shoved the packs she had in her arms into Sandor's hands, ignoring the angry look the ex-Knight sent to her. Sansa moved aside the painting and tapestry to reveal the small channel, dark and foreboding. A glance told her the torch they'd used previously was still hanging on the wall. Sansa reached up and pulled it down so she could light it. Once the torch was lit, she turned around and noticed what Shae held in her hands; Sandor's sword.

He was looking at her, suspicion clear on his face, even as he took the hilt of his sword from her hands. Shae didn't even respond to his look, just handed each a dark cloak that had been bundled under her arms and said, "Now, keep these on and over your head. When you reach the end of the map, you'll be at a wooden door. Wait there, don't make a sound. The Queen of Thorns will come for you when the evening is clear and you can get away safely."

"Do you know anything else about the plan? Where we might be going? Or how she plans to help us out of here?" Sansa asked, ignoring Sandor as he growled and opened his mouth to argue already.

"I have nothing. This is all I was told. I'm sorry." The foreign girl surprised Sansa by hugging her tightly. She whispered, "Take care of yourself and the child. It is the most important thing. Promise me, you won't worry about no one else."

Sansa murmured, "I promise," even though she knew she would only worry about the child and Sandor. Her own self wasn't nearly as important.

Shae let her go and told her, "Go now, before someone spots us."

Sansa nodded and turned to Sandor. He hadn't bothered to put the cloak on and he looked ready to argue some more. Timidly, she said, "Just trust me a bit longer."

He snarled at her. "You want me to blindly go into whatever the fuck this passage is, with a plan those manipulative bitches of High Garden started up, and you have no clue what the fuck is going on-"

"Oh, stop arguing!" Shae cut in, her glare heavy and her hands on her hips. "You want your wife murdered or beaten? Or would you rather sit around here and wait until she's carrying a child-and no, don't you dare argue that wouldn't happen, I know neither of you had bothered trying to protect against it. When that cunt King finds out that she's carrying, what do you think he'll do? He'll want to hold you back and cut the baby right out of her belly. He'd torture it, in front of the court and probably let your wife bleed to death."

Sansa tensed at her words and she hunched her shoulders almost protectively. When she glanced at Sandor, she noticed for the first time a look she'd never seen before. He looked almost predatory-like and protective and so angry to hear those words. Without another word, he hoisted the packs over his shoulder, took hold of Sansa's arm, and started into the tunnel. Sansa turned around and waved back at her handmaiden, wishing she'd had a chance to thank her for the help. But Sandor's grip was tight on her arm and she knew he wouldn't have the patience to wait any longer.

Sansa's hand was on her belly as she followed her thoughts on what might be happening next. She stumbled on the stairs twice trying to keep up with Sandor. Eventually, she had to ask, "Can we stop a moment?"

"You wanted to get the fuck out of here, that's what we're doing," he groused out, sounding far from happy with his words.

"I need to know where we're going-"

He stopped almost as suddenly, scowling and glaring at her. She took out the map and handed it to him wordlessly. Her stomach was flipping again, unhappy with the fast movement and the food she had consumed. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then straightened up, and said, "We can keep moving." He did so without a word and this time he didn't grab hold of her. She kept at his heels, cautious of the darkness behind her.

The silence stretched on as they moved across the stone steps. They could have been walking for hours. At some point, Sandor directed them into a shorter passage, barely six feet tall. When they stepped out of the opening, Sansa could hear the rushing of water underneath their feet. Sandor's torchlight flickered up near one of the walls and she saw a little opening, almost like a window.

Not wanting to get lost without Sandor, but undoubtedly curious, she wandered over and stuck her arm out of the hole. There was a breeze, wet and cool and the rushing water sounded louder and louder the further they wandered on. Just where were they at?

She hurried on, not wanting to be left behind.

Eventually, the stairs took a steep drop, winding for several minutes. When they reached the bottom step, they met the end, surrounded in darkness and silence. There was a door in front, heavy, solid wood, but there wasn't a handle on their side. She hoped that there was a handle on the other side. She turned to Sandor. He didn't meet her eye. He hung the torch back up on the wall, dropped the bags back onto the ground, and, with a grunt, settled down next to them. Sansa stared at the wall in front of her, almost lost for a moment. She didn't know what to do.

She pressed her back against the wall and reluctantly slid down so she sat beside her husband. She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. He tensed, but didn't shove her away immediately. Her stomach ached just a bit and the headache had returned in full force. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the nausea. Sandor let her sit that same way for some time, though he never attempted to put an arm around her or try to make her feel better. Not that he would have understood much.

At some point, Sandor shifted and he grumbled out, "This what you had fucking planned to talk about tonight?"

Sansa shook her head, opening her eyes and glancing down at her belly. She couldn't see much, surrounded by clothes and a cloak. "We can talk about it once we're out of here."

"If we get out," he muttered, shifting away from her. She didn't try to scoot closer to him, but she stared at him with wet eyes and eventually looked away and pressed her head against the stone wall.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this plan sooner," she murmured after a while. "I don't trust any part of King's Landing. I was scared someone would overhear."

"Why the fuck would plan anything with those bastard? I told you, I fucking said DO NOT trust anyone, but me." His voice had started to rise, but Sansa didn't say a word. She looked down and nodded her head in submission.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was just… I was so lost," she whispered. "There were so many changes and so much to take in at once." He snarled and looked away from her. "I just wanted to get away from here, with you. It was getting too dangerous. Joffrey was unpredictable. And with…" She trailed off. Sandor looked at her, eyes narrowed.

"With what?" he rasped. She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. This wasn't how she was supposed to tell him or where. She wanted, needed him to be in a better mood. The baby, the pregnancy, should have been a celebration. "Tell me, now before I fucking-"

The door in front of them started to creak open. Immediately, Sandor pulled his sword out of the hilt and, despite his anger and frustrations, stood in front of Sansa. She got to her feet a moment later and the movement spread a wave of nausea through her. She tried to fight it, but within a second she knew it was too late. She moved as far away from Sandor as she could before she collapsed to her knees and heaved. He turned long enough to look at Sansa and then he fixed his gaze back onto the door.

Sansa heard, "Oh put that damn sword away, boy, and step aside." She almost sobbed in relief to hear Lady Olenna's voice. When she felt her soft, wrinkled hands on her shoulder and her braid was tugged out of the way, Sansa looked up. The old Lady smiled down at her with her toothy smile and said, "Come now, girl. I know you don't feel good, but we must hurry. There's only a short period of time to get you to your destination." She offered a handkerchief to Sansa, who used it to wipe at her mouth.

Sansa nodded and got to her feet. She noticed the look of concern in Sandor's eyes, despite his reserved look and dislike for Lady Olenna. "I'll be fine, Sandor," she said, offering her hand to Sandor and tucking the soiled cloth into her sleeve. She'd worry about it later. She saw the exchanged looks between Sandor and Lady Olenna, but it seemed whatever it was they were challenging with each other, they solved it instantly and he started out of the tunnel.

The Queen of Thorns led them down more steps. She hurried them along as quickly as possible in the waning dark and heavy fog. When they reached the bottom, Sansa knew where she was instantly. She paused, staring down the ladder and turned to Lady Olenna. "You're sending us by boat? To where?"

"High Garden, my dear. You and your husband are going to escape. My grandson, Willas, has offered a place for you to stay, to recover and try to sort out your plans without any threats of death."

Sansa took her hand and told her genuinely, "You have no clue just what you've done for me or my family. How can I ever repay you?"

Lady Olenna shook her head and reached up to touch the hairnet still in Sansa's hair. "You've already done the payment my dear. You took care of our problem in the Court."

She stared for a moment at her. Lady Olenna shooed her to the edge. Sandor stared at her, glaring fiercely and utter distrust in his eyes. Sansa tried to tug him to the ladder, but he held his ground. Finally, he asked, "Why the hell are you helping us? No one here doesn't do it without a price or a reason."

Lady Olenna chuckled and told him, "I was given the payment before she even knew of the plan. Your Imp and Spider came up with the idea, offered me their payment, and I took it. And such a sweet Lady like your wife shouldn't be stressing out so badly. She has enough to worry about in the next five moons."

Sansa froze.

Sandor looked less than pleased and very annoyed with Lady Olenna's answer. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Sandor, don't worry about it, please," Sansa begged. "Let's just get going, before-"

"She hasn't told you about it?" Lady Olenna looked from Sansa to Sandor, the redhead shaking her head frantically. "More importantly, you never noticed it, not once? Never noticed that she needed to disappear from the meals without warning? Or the amount of times I heard you had to go to the kitchens to fetch her food?"

"Don't!" Sansa said frantically. "He shouldn't know, not yet. Not until we're safe."

Sandor turned to her furiously, growling, "The fuck have you been hiding from me all this time girl?"

She shook her head, tugging at his arm to the ladder. She turned to Lady Olenna and said quietly, "Please don't."

Lady Olenna ignored her, stepping up to Sandor and telling him, "The reason the Spider needed my help to get you both out of the city was because your wife is pregnant with your pup."

Sansa couldn't, didn't dare to look over at Sandor as the waves of the water started crashing down on the little boat below. When the silence continued, she almost couldn't breathe.

As Sandor brushed past her, over to the ladder, she hunched her shoulders and tried to hide from what she had to know was the worst look he would ever give her.

Finally, she looked down, to see Sandor was in the boat, his back to her and staring out at the sea below. Timidly, she looked at Lady Olenna for a moment, mumbled her thanks, and lowered herself down onto the first rung.

"Give me a moment, child," she heard above her. Sansa looked up to see a piece of dark violet in her hand. Lady Olenna tugged free one of Sansa's hands and pressed the stone into her palm. "Put that back when you see it. Be safe. I'll send word when I hear what will happen next in this kingdom. Now go." Sansa slipped her way down the ladder, into the boat. As soon as her feet touched the bottom, Sandor had taken up the oars and began to row. She sat down near the back, rested her hand against the side and waited for him to say something to her, anything at all.

But he didn't say a word.

 **~A/N~**

 **Thank you all so much for sticking around for this story! After much deliberation and quite a bit of typing, I've decided and started the sequel to this story. It has officially been published and is called "The Traitor's Escape"!**

 **Thank you again for so much support in this story! You are all the best!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


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